Commodity
by Rui
Summary: AU: When it comes to gifts, it's the thought that counts. Well, unless that thought comes from a dirty mind..
1. The Purchase

**_Commodity_**

_**Chapter 01**_

* * *

_Authoress' Notes_: Okay, so this is another one of those randomly thought up things ^^; I will eventually write something—more substantial. Maybe. Anyway, I hope you all like. I like playing around with Hitomi and Van.

**Big thanks** goes out to my beta who was kind enough to actually volunteer for the job of putting up with my raw writing and editing it into something legible. Give a round of applause to *Rad!

* * *

The merchant mentally groaned as the blonde heiress came to a slow stop in front of his merchandise.

Though the woman was rich and could pay upfront for any goods she desired, it was also a well known she was a hard-nosed business woman who would do her best to dwindle down any price a trader gave.

Milernia Sarah Aston was not a woman to be dealt with lightly. It was rumored she learned her cut-throat technique of dealing with merchants from the living legend of trade, Drydan Fassa. So it was no surprise when she chose to pick out a new slave that she would come armed with nothing but her wit, sharp tongue, and heavy money bag.

The cages reached to the woman's waist and appeared to be as wide as they were tall. The selection had a small variety of races, both male and female, in the cramped cages. To keep breeding or bloodshed to a minimum, the trader kept each potential purchase in their own cage. This also allowed the slaves a bit of freedom in their movement, but not much.

The rusted, thick bars were etched with ancient runes to prevent any rebellious slave from daring to reach for a customer or attempting escape. None of the creatures risked making a sound as the female inspected them with a critical eye. The undernourished, old, or injured were pushed to the far back of the set up, so she felt no need to pry further than the first two rows.

"What might her ladyship be interested in today?"the grey haired man questioned politely. Even if she was frugal, a sale was a sale and that meant it was one less mouth he had to feed that night.

For her part, Milernia glanced over her shoulder at the salesman and shrugged lightly. She kept her hands neatly folded in front of her skirts as she continued to move through his merchandise. Although she did have a certain_ type_ of slave in mind, there was no reason to make the trader feel as if he should push her to one of these. She wanted the best; after all, it was to be a birthday gift to a dearly beloved friend.

"Are these _all_ the males you have?" the woman asked at length. There were a few that would meet the age requirement but as for visually appealing—she was far from impressed.

"Yes, ma'am, I just got this lot a fortnight prior to coming to Palas."

"I see," the pretty woman frowned. She had hoped her favorite seller, one who she knew took some pride in presentation of slaves and actually hosed them down before dragging them to market, would have what she was seeking. "Pity."

As she turned to leave and search out another vendor, the man tapped his hand restlessly on his leg before he called after her.

"Yes?" Milernia pulled on the edges of her white lace glove in a bored manner.

"There is _one_ other, my lady," he confessed, "If it is a male you seek."

* * *

The weight of the dagger secured at her hip supplied a small measure of security as the slave keeper led her further down the alley. Under normal circumstances she would have backhanded any one fool enough to go, unescorted, to an unknown place with an almost complete stranger. However, she reminded herself to steel her nerves; this was _not_ a normal situation.

"I warn you though," the keeper muttered, inspecting the ring of keys he had strapped to his belt, "He is a bit of a wild thing."

"Wild? Don't tell me he is some kind of Neanderthal," though said in a teasing tone, there was an edge of warning. She was not one who liked to waste her time on goose chases and rabbit trails.

"Nope, in fact, I think he is probably one of the best stallions I have had come through this place," he said encouragingly as he unlocked the door that led into the warehouse he kept the slaves when they were not at market.

_Stallions? _Milernia echoed questioningly in her thoughts. Though she never owned one, she was of the world enough to know what that label referred.

In the society where _Others, _creatures of magick or beastlike, were shunned and enslaved, it was considered acceptable to own a few of the poor, dimwitted creatures. For a man to own a female pleasure slave was expected, the richer the man was, the more females he'd burn through in his life. However, it was only the most well-to-do ladies whoever shared their beds with a male _Other_. Most of the male slaves in circulation were either aesthetically unpleasing or the age was wrong.

They passed some of the more unrefined breeds he had to offer, some screaming, a number of them crying, and a handful were simply decaying. Wrinkling her aristocratic nose at the smell and conditions, she was relieved when he stopped in front of another door. Unlike the others, this one had several locks thrown in place and was reinforced with several bands of thick metal with dimly glowing runes etched into them.

"He had to be put in isolation the last few days, thought if I starved him he'd be in a better temper for market," the man explained, methodically unlatching each of the locks with a twist of a different key.

"He's not _loose_ in there, is he?"

"No, ma'am, he's in a cage, but I warn you, if you want him, you'll have to figure out a way to have him delivered." He waved one hand toward his scabbed face, "I've enough of him."

"I see," the woman replied primly. "I might as well look then."

Escorting her in, since she refused to go alone, the shopkeeper muttered under his breath a simple lighting spell. The magic caused several torches to flicker to life with fire throughout the smaller holding area.

Milernia's breathe caught in her throat at the sight in the middle of the room. Though the cage was only a couple of inches larger than those on the street, the male within it seemed at ease, as if he were sitting on a throne.

What remained of his tattered tan pants hugged his body in a way that made the rags appealing rather than appalling. Honey-tanned skin covered relaxed, smooth muscle. His hair was black as a starless sky and had a windblown style to it. The longish bangs that fell against his forehead and into his eyes gave the male a definite and delicious air of mystery.

It was the eyes, however, that sealed the deal for Milernia.

They were the color of a brown skipping stone with darker streaks in them. He was studying her as she was him, but as he moved from the reclining position into a crouch, she realized her mistake. The male wasn't evaluating her for her beauty or physic, the glint in his expression was the same a dragon gave to something he was going to devour or destroy.

"I told you he was a remarkable specimen," the old salesmen preened upon the lady's reaction.

"Indeed," she replied airily and bravely drew closer to the cage. The runes on the bars lit up with warning as she approached. The blonde bent at her knees until she was eye level with the slave. "Do you understand me?"

His head tilted back, as he looked down his nose at her before cocking his head to the side and giving her a curt nod.

"Great, then I have a few questions," Milernia stated, standing to her full height.

His eyebrows perked in mild interest.

"Have you been a—a _stallion_ long?"

He shook his head.

"Is this your first time then?"

Another short nod and a faint twinge of one side of his mouth was his answer.

"Do you—I mean to say is, are you aware of, well, what to _do_ with a woman?"

The corner of his mouth deepened and kicked up into a smirk, eyes closing partly, he nodded.

"In the ways of pleasure?"

His tongue poked out just enough to languidly trace his upper lip, his eyes darkening, never breaking gaze with the woman. Such a simple act had the woman's knees weak and her cheeks heating up. Though she was no innocent, the look he was giving her made her feel like she was going to be missing out on something.

Ah, the sacrifices one made for a friend.

Swallowing the newly developed lump in her throat, the heiress turned to the all but forgotten keeper.

"How much?"


	2. The Present

**_Commodity_**

_**Chapter 02**_

* * *

**Authoress' Notes:** Again, though the idea is "pleasure slave," the rating will not match the concept. Meaning that I might lead you to the bedroom, but the door is going to be slammed in your face. I don't do lemon/lime/smut/etc. I will boost the rating if I feel like it is toeing the line a bit too much. So, that being expressed, for those looking for a quick fix sex fic, this is not it. ^^

**Big thanks** goes out to my beta who was kind enough to actually volunteer for the job of putting up with my raw writing and editing it into something legible. Give a round of applause to _**Rad**!_

* * *

Hitomi Kanzaki sighed wearily as she shut the door to her personal sitting room and kicked off her flats. Reaching up to massage her temples with the tips of her fingers, the young woman pushed off the door and slowly made her way to the entrance to her bed chamber.

It was approaching two in the morning by the grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the room. A worn-out smile crossed her lips. Today, or rather _yesterday_, had been her birthday celebration.

The night, though fun, had been mentally trying and physically exhausting. She wouldn't trade her friends for the world, but it was something about when they all came under one roof that led to too much drinking, scandalous flirtations, and flying cake. Thankfully, the Aston sisters decided _not_ to stay over, taking their respective male counterparts with them. The servants, who were more of guests than workers that night, had retired long before the sisters' departure.

Nudging the door open, she kicked it shut and winced as the sound spiked up her throbbing headache. The lighting spell for her room lit enough candles to give the space a low, intimate glow. It wasn't her normal bright and cheerful atmosphere, but then again her brain wasn't usually holding a civil war in her skull.

Muttering, the woman dropped down to the bench in front of her vanity. Putting her elbows on the top, she ran her hands through her short blonde hair and leaned her head into her palms. Taking in several long breaths, Hitomi chuckled softly.

She had been pleasantly surprised at the choice of presents from her friends. Unlike the years past, there was no need to flee the room in utter embarrassment or beat Milernia with a pillow, praying it would make her brain function like a proper young lady's _should_.

Shaking her head slightly, she sat up straight, and grabbed her brush. Counting the strokes that worked her hair into a smooth shiny texture; her smile grew when her eyes landed on the small petal-pink pendant that hung around her neck from a slim gold chain. Milernia had been drunk on pride when she presented it to her after everyone else left, declaring it had come from the depths of the royal vault, and had no equal.

Placing her brush down, the blonde fingered the tiny jewel and rose to her feet. Turning to grab her nightgown from her bed, the woman froze as she locked gaze with another set of eyes.

An unknown and half-dressed man was calmly progressing toward her. His movements were catlike, being both graceful and with purpose. Any light from the candles appeared to flow around him, giving him shadows across his smooth skin and emphasizing the muscles of his chest and stomach. His hands were at his sides, flexing as if he was prepared to attack like an animal. His head was slightly lowered, causing his thick black bangs to frame his intense, focused crimson eyes.

Everything about him screamed for her to _run_, to call for a servant but her feet were planted firmly and her throat was so tightened with panic that no noise could escape. When his mouth kicked up on one side, gifting her with a hint of a smirk, she felt a cold finger of fear trace her spine.

He wasn't just walking to her, he was _stalking_ her.

She now knew how a sheep felt when a wolf was about to lunge.

The stranger paused a few feet from her, drew to his full height, and tilted his chin up. Though he was taller than her by several inches, it was the intensity and power rolling off of him in invisible waves that left her feeling helpless and small. As he reached a hand out, she started to visibly tremble, but her stubborn will did not permit her to close her eyes.

His fingers ghosted across her features in steady, measured motions. Hitomi could feel the warmth but not actual skin as he let his fingers trace the side of her cheek and down her neck. The fiery eyes followed his hand, studying her every reaction to the harmless gesture. As his gaze trailed her throat, his posture stiffened.

Narrowing his eyes, the man tilted his head forward again and let a low growl rumble in his chest as he curled his upper lip back slightly to bare his teeth.

The sound was enough to snap the blonde out of her terror-induced trance.

"_Armand!_" the woman screeched forgetting the drunken, slumbering state of her steward and shoved against the stranger's chest with all her strength. Caught off guard, the male stumbled backward, allowing enough room for her to bolt for the door.

As her hands grazed the metal latch, Hitomi found her world spinning as she was grabbed on the shoulder, and whirled around, a heartbeat later she hit the back of the door so hard her teeth clacked together.

His hands slammed on the door on either side of her head before she could take her next breath. Gulping, she stared blindly waited for her vision to correct itself from the burst of white stars.

What she found was a pair of intense, simmering ruby-colored eyes merely a hands breath away from her face. There were dark streaks of crimson with spikes of orange and yellow in the eyes; their tapering was entrancing to her somehow.

As he moved back marginally, she sucked in a lungful of air, fully intent on getting Armand or making the man in front of her go deaf, either would suffice. She opened her mouth to shriek, but found her throat and tongue unwilling to work with her brain's command.

One black eyebrow rose smoothly up in question at her silent frustration.

At least she could identify him to the authorities when (if) she escaped whatever he was planning to do with or to her. With this resolve she set out to study every detail of the intruder's face.

His skin was sun darkened and smooth from scars or freckles. A nicely shaped nose led her to his lips that were pulled into a line of anger and set above a strong, stubborn jaw. Her eyes widened in surprise as she finally notice the blood red teardrop jewel laced on a thick leather cord—just like hers, the one that –

"_Milernia_," Hitomi hissed, her voice coming out no louder than a whisper. When her green eyes returned to his fiery gaze she had a half-formed suspicion about how this stranger bypassed all the wards, dogs, and servants.

At the name, the male pulled back enough to give her another smirk before he reached into his back pocket, fished out a nicely folded note, and handed it to the shaken woman. Slowly taking it from his hand, she felt her anger flicker to life as she read her name neatly penned across the outside.

Volleying her eyes from the letter to the man, she swallowed thickly and jumped a hair when he returned his hand to its previous position, trapping her once more.

'_Dearest Hitomi, _

_It occurred to me that this, your six and twentieth birthday, called for an extra special gift on my part. Since you spent so much time studying while at school, I realized that you had no hands-on lessons of the male anatomy and thought you might appreciate gaining such knowledge. One day, dear friend, you will finally marry and you do not want to disappoint the man (or money) you love! _

_As to the male who is currently with you, he is what the traders call a stallion, here to satisfy every curiosity and physical need. He is rather handsome, is he not? Very quiet though. _

_Don't worry about him being overly naughty in ways you do not wish. You might notice the necklace he is wearing is similar to yours. Yes, they are a pair. As long as you two wear your respective necklaces, he cannot hurt you in any way. It is much better than those awful tattoos and gaudy, clunky bracelets! _

_Anyway, do have fun. _

_Yours, _

_Milernia S. Aston'_

Hitomi felt blood rush to her face in anger or mortification, it didn't matter. The blonde trickster was going to pay _dearly_ for this fiasco! To think that she, Hitomi Kanzaki, sole owner and mistress of _Terra Manor_ would need a—a—_pleasure _slave!

Fisting the paper in a hand, the angered blonde glared at the male. Fear evaporated in favor of fury since she now knew he wouldn't or _couldn't_ hurt her. Armed with this knowledge she straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders back.

Under her new state of mind, she rallied her frayed nerves, and made sure her voice was firm.

"Now see here, Mister—mister," she quickly reviewed the letter again, "_Stallion_, I know what you are _for_ but _I_ am _not_ the type of lady who needs your—your," she floundered, cheeks darkening, "_Talents_."

He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, as if he didn't understand, and Hitomi internally groaned. Leave it to Milernia to pick a male who didn't understand the common language. Nibbling on her lower lip absently, she tried to think of a way to explain to the stranger and failed to notice his renewed sly smile.

It wasn't until the "guest" leaned in and she felt his nose softly brush her cheek that she came back to herself. Hitomi quickly put both of her hands on his chest and pushed, trying to get him to back up. Apparently some tricks only worked once on this male as he clucked his tongue in disapproval and refused to be moved.

His lips trailed lightly across her cheek and though she couldn't feel his skin, his warm breath on her flesh had her fingers curling against his bare chest. The stallion paused at the curve of her jaw turned his head slightly so that the tip of his nose brushed her ear. He ghosted down the side of her neck and up again, inhaling her scent.

For some unexplained reason, the blonde found her resolve crumbling like a sand castle at high tide. It did not help her state of shock when the man leaned in further, bracing himself on his forearms as he continued his airy attentions to her surprisingly sensitive neck.

"Uh, uhm, y-you—I, no—"

Her words came up short when he delicately nipped her skin. Grazing his teeth across her flesh, the stallion gave a quick lick to the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder before he bit down. Goosebumps erupted over her exposed arms, her eyes widened as she sucked in a breath, unconsciously rearing up on the balls of her feet and pushing herself against his chest. Slipping one hand on her back, the male pressed her more firmly to him, their stomachs flat together.

The black haired male repeated the motions a few times with his mouth, taking great care not to break skin but to leave faint marks each time. She felt rather than saw him grin against her jaw before he withdrew.

Resting his forehead against hers, his eyes flickered with amusement by her reaction to such a simple gesture. With large emerald eyes, the woman blinked up at him, her hands still curled on his chest. The late hour, that's what she'd blame, that and the many hours before it of entertaining, spiked punch, and too much cake.

As she licked her suddenly dry lips, the male's eyes brightened considerably as he watched her tongue. Locking gazes with her once more, whatever was starting to build between them was crushed like a bug when the slave gave her a smug grin.

The arrogance was a cold slap of reality.

Pinching her lips together, Hitomi jerked her hands off his chest as if he was lava, fisted her hands, and straightened her arms to her sides.

She was a _lady_. Even _if_ having a slave of this frivolous nature was considered a sign of elite social status and perfectly acceptable, the young woman wanted nothing of it. _Especially_ when he was wearing an egotistical expression!

As she clenched her teeth together, she gave him a hot, furious look and commanded in a low, deadly tone, "Let. Me. Go."

In a heartbeat, the male removed his hands and stepped away, but the arrogant air remained.

She was going to _murder_ Milernia.

* * *

His ears were still ringing with the shrillness of her threats and various accusations an hour after the strange blonde woman had fallen asleep. It was more exhaustion that quieted her down than acceptance of him being in her bed chambers.

The stallion was cross-legged on the plush fainting couch his new owner, Hitomi, had prepared for him after she lost the game of eject-the-male-from-the-room. She'd muttered under her breath while preparing his bed about the various things she intended to do and tell his previous owner, Milernia.

Even as he lounged on the make-shift bed, staring at the lump in the large bed across the room, he grunted at the memory of the blonde princess.

Milernia had paid for him and was overly proud about it. Like a piece of jewelry she showed him off to her sisters by having him kept on a large, velvet pillow in the corner of her sitting room. Her sisters had been a bit mortified about the idea of a stallion being a gift, until they inspected him.

The middle one, Eries, had the audacity to want to 'test him out.' Though he smirked and teased her with his expressions and tongue, on the inside he was foaming at the mouth and snarling like an injured beast.

Thankfully, Milernia had declared him off limits to everyone.

It was over tea that they had given him the nickname. When they giggled and tried to lure him over with offerings of finger sandwiches, calling him Rowdy. He had feigned ignorance and stayed on the pillow, cross armed, and intently studying them.

They had named him because they believed him an unnamed and wild creature.

But, oh, he had a name.

It was a _real_ name given to him by his father at birth.

However, there was no reason to let such foolish women ever know it. For one of his race to be called by their given names, would allow complete power over them. The humans had enough of his freedom without claiming his magick.

The eldest one judged him too simple or stupid.

The middle one commented that words were overrated when dealing with a pleasure slave.

The youngest one, his temporary owner, only laughed and carried on about what a great surprise it would be for his new owner.

Shaking his head, clearing his mind of the three idiots, he refocused on the current blonde lump to who he was bound. He had fallen asleep in the palace, drugged he realized now, into such a deep slumber that he didn't wake up until he felt his magick snap angrily in protection at the nearness of another.

Jarring himself awake, he found Milernia smiling slyly over him. Sluggishly he pushed himself into a sitting position, and noticed that he was no longer in the frilly, pink-drenched chambers of the palace but on a lavish bed in a new place. Instead, the room was a mute cream with yellow and browns for coordination and color. The smell was that of wild flowers, mainly honeysuckle, and not as overwhelming as the perfume the royal brats seemed to bathe in.

"You be a good boy to her, Rowdy," the princess had instructed. "I've collared you and you'll be _all_ hers tonight. _Don't_ disappoint me." She then instructed him about the letter she had slipped in his back pocket while he was out, before she winked, turned on her heels, and left.

He had read the letter as soon as she clicked the door shut and only snorted before refolding it and shoving it back in his pocket.

Unconsciously, a hand reached to the pendant around his neck. Collared indeed. The humans were getting better, more discreet with their manufactured magic. He had tested his restraint while alone in the room and found it both alarming and aggravating. The blasted jewel would absorb and reflect any power he used back into his body. It was the equivalent to sucker punching himself in the gut while rendering him immobile.

Just when he was about to start ripping the room apart in anger and boredom, she had shown up. Not sure of just _who_ was going to enter, he had quickly positioned himself in the bed where he was left.

As she sat down, totally oblivious to his presence, he figured she was as dim-witted as her friends. From his spot across the room, he had an unobstructed view of her face as it was reflected in the mirror as she brushed her hair.

Short hair was a strange sight on any female, human or Other, but the short locks made her neck appear longer. Golden blonde hair added warmth to her ivory skin. Her lips were a dusty rose hue and caught his attention when she smiled. The dress hid the figure, but he doubted it would remain a secret for very long.

It was only when the woman rose from her seat, turned, and caught sight of him that he became aware that he was drawing closer to her.

The sharp scent of fear hit his nose, and in an already agitated state, he decided to play with this girl. Large, green eyes followed his every movement; he could practically hear her heart pound against her chest. When he was within arm's reach of her, he stopped. His magick spiked and rolled along his spirit, begging to expand and to explore and evaluate to determine if this _human_ was a threat.

With his natural talents on a short leash, he reached out to her physically, causing her to start shaking, and moved his fingers close enough to let his core magick search but never touch her skin. He watched as various shades of her aura spiked and brushed like a cat along his magick.

Bright white, hot stings of pain, like a million needles of fire; the magick pierced his body and burrowed down into his very core. His probing magic had curled back into him, exploding like cannonball, causing his grip on his senses to falter.

Helplessness washed over him, causing him to snarl in anger at the idea of being at someone else's mercy. Particularly when it was a human girl, and by all inspection was found to be weak and harmless. It was in the stunned state when she had been able to push him away and had shrieked out a name.

The shove had woken up his body and with an angry lunge, he had caught her, twisted her around and pinned her to the door. Encaging her with his arms on either side of her body, he waited for her to strike out again. He clenched his jaw, awaiting the pain, but when all she did was stare dumbly back at him, he moved back a hair.

His eyebrow hiked up at her silence and the pendant dangling around her neck. Digesting what he knew of the one he wore and what was written in the letter, he concluded it was the magic and not the girl that had shocked him.

"_Milernia_," she'd hissed, eyes locked on his neck.

Smirking, he reached to his back pocket and handed over the letter. Uncertain, the girl took it from him and made a quick read of it. Her face, which had been pale, colored to a bright red as she jerked the letter down to glare at him. She sucked in a breath, straightened and stiffened her upper body as if preparing to fight.

It was an interesting reaction.

Her declaration of not wanting or needing his 'talents' had him curious. Cautiously, making sure not to get another whiplash reaction, he caressed his aura against hers. Both of the pendants preened, as if sharing a joyous reunion. It was something not visible to the human eye and left him even more curious.

Gingerly he cleared away different aspects of her aura; he focused on a certain line, the one directly connected to the wellbeing of the body, and lightly stroked it with his power. It shivered and brightened to a pure, healthy white.

He smiled darkly as the truth blared before him. So this woman, this little girl, was a virgin.

Oh, how could he resist teasing the little virgin, even if just a little? It would be intriguing to discover her level of innocence in experiences of physical pleasure.

Deciding to only use his proximity and soft touches provided by his mouth, he closed the gap between them. When she touched him, he thought it was for acceptance, but instead she tried to push him off of her again. He clucked his tongue as a sound of amusement, continuing to his intended target of her neck.

Her long fingers curled against his bare chest, scrapping his skin lightly and stirring his interest further. She smelled of honeysuckle, something he had not had the privilege of indulging in for months since being captured. As she leaned into his body, he lowered himself to his forearms, leaving little space between them.

Though she reacted, she did not return any of his suggestive touches, leaving him to believe she was either extremely docile or naïve to pleasure.

As she started to come back to herself, mumbling a half formed thought, he nipped her. When the magic didn't pulse against him, he tasted her skin. It was free from the chemical perfumes humans so adored and with his instincts slowly rousing, he bit down at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. As she gasped for breath and her body pressed against his, he slipped a hand behind her, strongly holding her to him.

As he continued to manipulate her reactions with his teeth and tongue, he grinned. If _this_ was his owner, the woman he would have to win his freedom from, it was not going to take him very long. He left her neck, reddened and slightly moist, and put his forehead to hers.

Her scent had shifted from fear to anger and now was a mix of apprehension and want. She stared up at him, emerald eyes hazed over from such simple attentions. He felt his instincts purr with desire when she poked her tongue out just so she could wet her lips. An innocent seduction, one she probably wasn't even aware of as alluring, and that made his sly smile deepen.

Suddenly, her eyes focused, her mouth thinned into a straight lined and her hands dropped from his skin. The _clack_ of her teeth was followed by an insanely enraged glare.

"Let. Me. Go."

He felt the magic spike and stepped away before it could paralyze him once more. It was after that encounter that the blonde groused and growled about the impropriety of her friend's decisions while trying to accost him from her personal chambers.

She had thrown both words and things at him, which he ignored and easily dodged. This woman, Hitomi, he believed, was a curious creature.

Instead of calling for the magic of the pendant to force him from her presence or even scream for someone to remove him, she resigned herself to his being there after muttering about her 'useless, alcohol-soaked subordinates.' Thus the bed was made, she was asleep, and he was watching her.

With silent steps, he approached her slumbering form. The magic allowing his vaguely elevated magick to slide easily over her, and lacked the violent reaction of earlier. Another mystery.

As he stood within two feet of her form, he pondered the limit of the magic. He could easily kill her with his bare hands. No one knew he was here, save for the empty-headed princesses, and he could make away like a star come dawn.

No, no that wouldn't help.

Frowning, he knew what he needed to do and it wasn't to slay her—at least not presently. He first had to push the limits of this new technological magic, and then he could prepare his kind against it.

Smirking like a cat that drank the master's milk, he stripped off his tattered pants and lifted the sheets and blanket. Taking great care not jostle the bed too much, he noiselessly slipped between the covers and next to her body.

She would most likely pierce his eardrums when she discovered him, but it was worth the cost to see if what triggered the magic protecting her.

He would tantalize, seduce, and please her in order to see what the limits were of the new fake magic. If it ended up with them rutting, then so be it. After all, doing so would only end up in her death and his freedom.


	3. The Pretense

**_Commodity_**

_**Chapter 03**_

* * *

**Authoress' Notes:** Again, though the idea is "pleasure slave," the rating will not match the concept. Meaning that I might lead you to the bedroom, but the door will be slammed in your face. I don't do lemon/lime/smut/etc. I will boost the rating if I feel like it is toeing the line a bit too much. So, that being expressed, for those looking for a quick fix sex fic, this is not it. ^^

I do apologize if things seem to be moving a bit slow, these are the foundation chapters. I _do_ have the story's main events and ending all planned out, just a few random details I am trying to smooth out. This won't be as long as _Just You Wait_. I will try to update in a steady manner, but be warned that my writing computer is having a serious case of brattiness.

**A big thanks** goes out to **_Rad_ **for volunteering to be the beta for this story! She has graciously gone through the earlier chapters and refined them. If you have already read chapter two before the posting of _this_ chapter,I do suggest you re-read chapter two as there were some scenes extended and other parts clarified.

* * *

"But what do I _do_ with a st—a ple—with a _him_?" Hitomi questioned, staring out the window to the balcony just beyond it. The black-haired slave appeared to be quite content to play with a fire poker as if it were a sword while the bright sun beat down on his bare shoulders. She had shooed him out of the room after he had begun to jab at her curtains with the poker. Under normal circumstances she would have thought better of arming him, but she was willing to exchange practicality and logic for a moment of peace.

It had only been a week and the poor mistress of _Terra Manor_ had her nerves rubbed raw by the newcomer and Milernia, who had conveniently decided to visit her intended, Dryden, for a few weeks aboard his leviship. If the heiress thought for a single heartbeat that Hitomi would cool down during her vacation, then she didn't know her friend as well as she thought. The coals that Kanzaki intended to rake Aston across were being kept searing hot and ready.

"You know very well what you do with a—_him_, you had that talk when you were thirteen," Armand replied dryly, flipping the page of his newspaper as the two were served afternoon tea.

Hitomi frowned lightly at his flippant reply. Her steward was treating the situation like it was part of the weather; something he could observe, complain, or comment on but in the end was powerless to change.

He, for reasons she begrudgingly understood, took this gift as a very high compliment and a prodigious step on the social ladder. A stallion was highly prized and sought after, so for a woman to be given one as a _gift_ was an unprecedented event.

However, the young woman was tired enough to curl up on the nearest pillow and sleep the rest of the day. The first night with the stallion proved to be a record breaking (along with a few delicate knick knacks) night of frustration.

Her 'gift' had made himself cozy in her bed chambers.

No matter what Hitomi told (yelled at) him, the slave would just tip his head to the side in silent question or duck his head forward to hide his eyes behind his thick black bangs. When she finally grew too exhausted to talk or throw things, she changed into her nightgown—in her personal bathing room with a shrill threat ringing in the slave's ears.

As weary as she had been, the etiquette of a good hostess was still drilled too deeply in her for Hitomi to ignore setting up her 'guest'. Since he did not seem to have any want to leave her room, she dressed the fainter couch in front of her windows for him with several blankets and spare pillows. It was there Hitomi left him, crawled into bed with a deep-chested sigh, and closed her eyes.

When she'd awoken to a maid's gentle knock, fate was about to prove it was not so kind as to let the stallion do as she asked. Instead of him snoring on the couch, she was jarred from her light slumber when she rolled over and came face to face with the male.

She shrieked while jerking up and away too quickly and had ended up toppling off the bed into an outrageous heap on the floor.

That was _nothing _compared to the complete shock at finding him gracefully exiting her bed and discovering he slept in the _nude_.

At the memory, Hitomi's cheeks tinted dark pink and tapped her head lightly on the cool glass of the window she was looking out of. Every day since his coming when she went to bed, she did so alone (; except with a steak knife under her pillow), he was always with her when she woke up.

"My lady," the soft-spoken maid addressed, handing Hitomi a cup of tea and saucer. The woman smiled and thanked the servant before turning back to the man on her balcony.

The stallion, she could only guess, had cost several _very_ pretty coins for Milernia to purchase.

He was young, distractingly handsome with the dark hair and bright eyes, and his body was sculpted pleasingly with whipcord muscle under unmarred tanned skin. It was only the consideration of her friend's thoughtfulness, misplaced as it might be, and the many miles from the nearest tradesman that forced Hitomi into keeping her so-called 'gift.'

Closing her eyes, she fought down the ache that was steadily growing between her eyes. There was no way she could keep a stallion around the place! Especially since no one would believe her if she tried to explain that she had no intention of taking advantage of the male.

He, on the other hand, preferred to watch her with a quiet intensity that made her overly aware of herself. The slave made no other _exceedingly_ inappropriate amorous attempts with her as he did the first night, although the promise and tension was still thick in the air. In the middle of the night, she would feel calloused fingers tips gently running down her arm, face, or neck. Never would the stallion venture his feather light touches to _covered_ skin, proving he did value his life.

Sipping from her cup delicately Hitomi sighed.

"If you are going to keeping sighing, you might want to step away from the windows. The maid just finished cleaning them this morning."

Giving a half-hearted glare over her shoulder toward the brunette, she found him still hiding behind his paper. Deciding the slave was far more appealing to stare at (and wasn't that at least part of the point?), the blonde woman tipped her head to the side in consideration.

He hadn't uttered a single syllable and his expressions were tightly controlled, teetering between detached and smug most of the time.

"I suppose if he is going to be staying here, he ought to have some proper clothes," Hitomi pondered out loud, turned easily on her heel, and started toward a couch. "Something to make him presentable for any guests, the season is about to start after all."

The paper crinkled as the steward lowered it to eye her with raised eyebrows.

"Most owners request _fewer_ clothes for their stallions, not _more_. Are you _sure_ you understand his purpose?"

Hitomi shot him a dark look and stuck out her tongue in a childish manner.

"Why waste good money on a slave anyway?" the steward inquired, folding his paper neatly before dropping it on the small table next to his seat. "From your screaming and raving this past week, I had gathered that clothes were completely optional to him."

The woman's cheeks colored to a dark red. It was true that she had went on a rather long tirade about his constant state of undress while sleeping, but she had also noticed that she was the only one who he felt free enough to go without his meager, torn pants.

"True, but I do wish for him to be dressed, perhaps if he had some _decent_ clothes, he'd wear them." She tipped her head, took a sip of tea, and smiled. "He needs to be proper when I am entertaining or when a patron comes."

Armand frowned, propped an elbow on the armrest and tucked a fist under his chin as he scrutinized her body language and expression.

To try and pass an Other off as a human was nearly as illegal as treason to the crown. There were stories, of course, of inglorious attempts and lethal failures. Even if the account was proven to be nothing but fictionalized and vile gossip, the question was forever attached to the person's reputation. A bad report was poison in the world of the gentry and a circumstance from which one rarely ever recovered.

Hitomi _knew_ this, _knew_ the stories, and witnessed the fall of some of her peers for such follies.

"Surely you don't mean to parade that _creature_ about as a _man_," he stated, his tone serious and not the least entertained.

"Milernia and her sisters are the only ones who are aware of his status. There is an intelligence and air about him," the blonde replied slowly, thoughtfully, "and there are some gentlemen who I wish to deflect their interests in the manor or me. If they think I am close to another, perhaps they will find a new target."

"And what if such actions prevent you from capturing the attentions of a gentleman who you wish to know better?" Armand volleyed smartly. "What then, my daring one?"

"I'll handle the situation if it arises," she answered tartly.

Sighing, the man shook his head.

"Meaning that you'll come running, crying to me to fix your mistake," he paused and grinned, "yet _again_."

Hitomi plucked up a tea cookie and threw it at his head, hoping it was stale enough to hurt.

* * *

Hitomi flopped down on one of the couches arranged in front of the tri-mirror in the back of the tailor's shop. Fanning herself with several pieces of her recently collected letters, she wondered, again, if Milernia was a blessing or curse as a friend.

Eyeing the stallion as he stood perfectly still on the small pedestal as the short, bushy haired tailor took measurements, she wondered where this obedient male was earlier.

It had proven to be a true trial when she wanted him to get dressed to go into town. When she'd approached him with the borrowed shirt, boots, and coat, the black-haired male had raised a quizzical eyebrow. After she told him her plans, he'd run the first time she turned her back.

Hitomi, as well as a handful of servants, attempted to corral him for nearly an hour.

She had muttered things even the stable boys wouldn't say as she followed her errant slave into one of the sitting rooms, scanning for his person before shutting and locking the door behind her. Hitomi caught sight of him hiding behind one of the couches, scowling at her as she quickly advanced on his position. As soon as she got within an arm's distance, the male darted to the other side of the room and tucked himself behind another piece of furniture.

Hitomi gritted her teeth in an effort to control her temper. Stomping her foot in frustration, she marched after him. Though she was tired of seeing him scurry about, there was a part of her that found his agile grace beautiful. He managed to flow around the manor as silent and sure as river around a rock, even in rooms choked with furniture.

While she had stubbed her toe on a table, banged her elbow on a door jamb, and stumbled over a bump in the hallway rug chasing after him.

After a few failed attempts at opening the window, the male somehow managed to climb up one of the tall, wide bureaus and perched on top like a bird. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her with the makings of a self-satisfied grin on his mouth.

Hands on hips and eyes locked on his form Hitomi seethed.

"I will _not_ have you running around here half-dressed any longer!" A few breaths later something black sailed down from the bureau and landed on her head. Snatching it off, she inspected the cloth before burning bright red. "Running around _completely _naked is _worse_!" She balled up the pants and threw them back in the direction they had come.

It had taken fifteen minutes of threats about starving, dousing him in perfume, or putting him on a leash like a dog before she could no longer take it.

"_Please_," Hitomi pleaded, wearily closing her eyes and rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger. "Would you _please_ just put the clothes on?"

She let out a startled _eek_ when she opened her eyes to see him standing in front of her, with a thoughtful, calculating look as he reached out for the clothes. The blonde happily handed over the outfit and then hastily turned her back as he untied his black pants and let them fall to the ground.

_How_ he could have no embarrassment about doing something as intimate as _that_ still shocked her. Then, with a rap on her head with her knuckles, she reminded herself he was a _pleasure_ slave and therefore probably accustomed to being naked more often than dressed.

On the carriage ride into town, Hitomi had nervously pulled on her gloves, bit her lip, and fought the urge to scream out in frustration. Her nerves were thinned further by the risk she was taking in bringing him into the village under the pretense of being a _man_. Armand had attempted to dissuade her, but in the end he had muttered about her thick-headedness and locked himself in his office.

Once at the tailor's shop, the owner had been all too happy to get his hands on such a 'fine, young man' and ushered the slave to the fitting rooms. There was never a suspicious look or even a slight question in the shop keep's voice, something for which she was grateful. Hitomi occupied herself by studying the various imported silks and embroidery thread when the tailor, Mr. Peops, came to her with a bit of a problem.

Apparently the boy would not _speak_ to him. The blonde mentally slapped herself for not thinking of his lack of verbal communication sooner. With a sweet smile, the woman nodded slowly.

"I am terribly sorry, I forgot to mention," she kept her voice delicate, "But he is a mute."

Mr. Peops' eyes flared with shock and understanding, before softening with unspoken sympathy.

"I know this is a highly improper request, but would you accompany me in the back for this procedure? You probably understand him better than I."

Hitomi choked back her laugh, if the poor tailor only knew how many times she had seen the stallion's bare behind, he'd not think so highly of her nor would he be so hesitant about her being in the curtained measuring area with them.

Thus the reason she was baking in her own clothes and watching with a detached interest as the tailor and his tape seemed to touch every bit of exposed skin of the stallion that he could. The slave, for his part, kept his features smooth of emotions and, surprisingly, was excellently behaved (for once).

Hitomi tipped her head to the side, studying his near-naked form. Peops insisted from the moment she explained her need of a wardrobe for her guest that the first thing the male needed was a decent pair of under breeches and, thankfully, always had a variety of sizes in stock. The stallion had obeyed every request the short man had made of him, including dressing in the cotton pants.

She would have asked Peops' trick for getting men to dress, but then declined following through. As it was, there were too many questions she would have to slip around or keep a straight face to lie through.

Already the woman had to create a story about how the unfortunate man had been traveling to see _Terra Manor_ when bandits overtook his horse and robbed him of everything. To sooth such brutish behavior, she had promised him a new wardrobe for the social season.

Peops was thrilled with the large order and the sum of gold it would poor into his bank and didn't question her about anything else.

An hour later, the two customers were being directed to the front of the shop. It had taken a few quick alterations but the tailor had been able to provide a nice, loose fitting dress shirt and a pair of dark brown pants. When the stallion was presented to her fully dressed in fitting clothes, her green eyes widened.

The dark cream color of the shirt contrasted nicely with his tanned skin and complimented the broadness of his shoulders and gave whispered hints of the toned arms. Hitomi had barely been able to catch the question Mr. Peops asked as she was _still_ keeping her eyes and mind attentive to her 'guest'.

"I beg your pardon?" she replied sheepishly, the older man smiled patiently.

"What is his name? I have to put the order under a name and if my wife sees _your_ name—she might leap to the wrong conclusion." The man rolled his beady black eyes, "She has a tendency to do so, as you might now."

Hitomi glanced at the stallion, who folded his arms behind his back and looked down at her, a smirk trying to tug on his lips. To give the male a name and surname meant there would be no turning back. There wouldn't be a chance for her to undo her deception if she named him as if he were a man.

"DeCri," she answered at length. "He is a—_cousin_ to my steward, Mr. Armand DeCri."

"Oh! Of course, the delightful man from the far country!" Mr. Peops let the matter slide with the explanation as he started to furiously scribble down the name, numbers, and such. With a promise of alerting her as soon as the clothes were finished, he wished them a good day.

As they exited the shop, the stallion proved to be mannerly as he held open the door for her to pass through first. She gave him a small, shy smile and quietly led them toward their next destination—the boot maker. He kept an easy stride next to her as they walked down the avenue as if her equal. Hitomi noticed some of the ladies, both young and old, were diverted by the handsome image beside her.

She gave a secret little grin. If only they knew they were blushing and whispering behind dainty white gloved hands about a gentleman who would normally be spat on—even _by_ the ladies for being an Other. But no, she assured herself with a slight frown, no one would ever know about what—_who_ he truly was if she could possibly help it.

Peeking at him through the corner of her eyes, his air appeared no different than any other man walking around. He walked with his shoulders back, arms leisurely crossed behind his back, head up and his eyes was half-lidded, as if bored.

Oh yes, he fit in with the town very well.

With a sigh and roll of her green eyes, Hitomi led them directly to the cordwainer's shop.

* * *

She was—odd.

As they sat at a small table for two at some tea house attached to an inn on the outskirts of the town she had dragged him into, she was debating what to order while he studied her.

The stallion tipped his head back, eyes focused on his mistress as she scanned the menu held tightly in her hands. She did so with the tip of her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth. That alone was strange, but her behavior in general was unsettling.

Hitomi hadn't demanded anything of him, as of yet, which caused his suspicion to fever pitch.

When she had presented him with borrowed clothes to wear and her want of taking him to town, he ran. The last thing he could stomach was another afternoon of trilling women and demeaning pet names. He was sure she would give up after he evaded her the first few times.

After she had begged him and sounded so pitiful with a 'please' on her lips, he relented. If she was not true to her word, he would coax her body into a quivering mass before leaving her unsatisfied.

No one ever gave without expecting something in return. Even if the blonde was currently being nothing but a polite lady, her mask would eventually crash to the ground and her true face would be shown. He just had to wait her out.

Thinking back on the day, it amused him to no end that she was able to lie about what he was to her and why he was with her. Hitomi not only imparted him with a last name, but also created a fictitious relation with her rather snotty steward who he only had the miserable pleasure of meeting once so far.

When they were introduced, Hitomi stood, nervous from her scent and pink cheeks, as the brunette man, Armand, glared at him. His lips twitched at the human's attempt to be alpha male. It wasn't something easily accomplished in the presence of an animal, and isn't that what they considered him? Nothing more than a stupid animal to be abused for their fleeting wants and then tossed aside ruined and shamed.

"—I think the pumpkin iced tea with the gingerbread tea loaf would be divine," she mumbled before glancing up at him. "What would you like to eat?"

Her alleged consideration was over-shadowed by what he chose to read into the question. Cocking his head to the side, he leaned forward as a slow, sly smile formed on his mouth. Sliding a hand across the table, he wrapped his fingers around one of her slender wrists and leisurely drew it back toward him.

Flashing her a predatory smile, his eyes never leaving hers as he gave her inner wrist a long, slow lick, ending his attentions with a nip to her skin.

"I have to find the server!" The girl jumped up and yanked her hand back at the same time. Stumbling backward, she let out a curse as her chair clattered to the floor behind her.

Crossing his arms against his chest, the male quirked an eyebrow, watching as she hurriedly set the chair right and then scurried from the tea room. Grinning, he shook his head at her naiveté. Though they were in a public setting, they were alone in the serving area.

Deciding to use her absence to his advantage, he closed his eyes and carefully uncoiled the power from his core. He felt the woman's presence keenly, the pendant around her neck throbbed to him like a heartbeat. When he brushed his magick against her being, the magic pulsed yellow, causing him to flinch as a dull pain flared in his mind.

Skirting past her, he inventoried the humans and was displeased to feel an Other stuffed somewhere in the back of the house. Whoever it was moved about freely and with a swiftness of steady and sure actions that were unhindered by fear or stress.

A servant-slave then, he concluded, and definitely a female by the spirit she carried.

There were only a handful of countries that permitted slaves to purchase their freedom, or allowed it to be gifted to them by their owners.

Asturia was not one of those countries.

It was, in fact, the heart and soul of the slave trade on Gaia. Palas, its capital, had several large warehouses crammed with slaves where the leviships ported. If an Other stayed too long in the warehouse, they were either pushed to the back, forgotten, and would eventually die from lack of nourishment or they were used as sport to hunters.

Then there were the breeding farms. From his resources, the acreage was located several miles from the main gates of Palas and existed to produce the strongest workers and most beautiful Others possible. Treated like animals, thrown with whatever pair the humans thought would create the best offspring, regardless of the customs of the creatures they used.

His power swirled, begging to lash out at the nearest body.

The pendant around his neck flared a brilliant red, blinding him as the magic tightened the leather around his neck, choking him. Gripping the lip of the table for support and focus, the male concentrated, not on the pain but the power within him that was spiking and bubbling in pain and fury.

Seconds felt like days as he pushed down his magick with nothing but his training and stubborn will. His vision had returned but the lack of air was causing black splotches to appear in his sight. After an excruciating minute, the pendant's magic loosened the leather strap, allowing him to pant in air as he kept hold of the table to stay upright.

_That_ was a nasty new trick.

So the pendant wasn't the only part of the collar that was interlaced with magic. It could also manipulate the leather into constricting, which begged the question: what exactly was the extent of its control?

* * *

Hitomi smiled, all politeness, while on the inside she mentally groaned. It was one thing to escape from a flirtatious male; it was another thing to brush off a dull friend whose main joy in life was regaling those around her with in depth stories of her cats and their ailments.

Sarah, a spinster and daughter of the local veterinarian, animatedly chatted (mostly to herself) about the ages and cuteness of her felines. The captive blonde began to wonder how to interject a need to leave when the other woman stopped mid-sentence, stood up straighter, and tried to tidy her hair in small gestures.

As her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, Hitomi wondered what could have caused the sudden change. She could barely help it when her shoulders sagged for a tick as she heard her name by the one man she wished would forget it.

Turning, ever the lady, the woman gave a slight (very slight) curtsy to the knighted man before her.

"Sir Dilandau Albatou," Hitomi addressed. "What do you do back in this part of the country?"

The pale man grinned as he drew closer to her, his men giving over their cloaks to the attendants with smiles and 'thank yous'. His eyes, a near rabbit-pink, gleamed with devious delight as he collected Hitomi's slender hands in his gloved ones.

"How could I stay away when my lady is here?" he replied smoothly, his grin itching up higher on one side of his mouth. "Besides, I am in need of a new ride, so naturally I thought of you."

Clenching her teeth together, Hitomi tightened her smile. She had heard from Milernia that smiling repressed the gag reflex, something she desperately needed to quell at the moment. Her stomach rolled in disgust every time the two of them were in the same room after he had gifted her several pelts years earlier.

"I'm sure if you come to _Terra_ the stable masters will be able to fulfill your need of a _horse,_" she replied tartly.

"Ah, but my lady, there are some needs only _you_ can fulfill," he admitted smoothly. "Also, I need to apologize for missing your birthday gathering," the albino sighed in a mock sincerity. When Sarah had moved off, a bit dejectedly, leaving Hitomi and the knight by themselves, Dilandau leaned down to whisper into the lady's ear. "But I've a room here and I can give you a private and personal celebration."

Her cheeks flared, not with shame, but anger. She jerked her hands from his and took two meaningful steps back, eyes flaring with her offense.

The male, who cocked his head to the side, let his grin spread as a soft chuckle filled the space between them.

"What type of _lady_ would I be to accept such a scandalous offer, sir?" Hitomi, still with the smile, answered acidly.

"If not for entertainment purposes, then why venture so far from your sanctuary?" He smirked as he glanced around, "And alone."

"Indeed, I am _not_," she snapped, hands balled into fists and tucked into the folds of her skirt. For once, Milernia's gift was a blessing to her. "I am here with my steward's cousin."

White eyebrows peaked as he crossed his arms against his chest and his grin flattened.

"Armand has a family? I always assumed he hatched." Then, as if reevaluating the thought, he kicked up one side of his lips. "Of course, _she_ may also come. Never enough ladies, if you ask me."

Scowling at the titled twit before her, Hitomi opened her mouth to retort when a harried maid came up to Hitomi's side, frantically pointing toward the sun room she'd left her stallion in.

"M-miss! The gentleman you were with—!"

Panic slammed into her as she grabbed her skirt, pushed past the knight, and cursed the material as it wouldn't let her move faster. When she reached her stallion's side, he was flanked by two others, one was an Avian, an Other that favored a bird with feathers instead of hair and yellow tinted lips, beside her was the master of the inn and tea room.

"What happened?" Hitomi implored, dropped to her knees, and collected the pained male's head into her lap. Though he was sweating profusely, he wasn't feverish. His upper lip was drawn back, his teeth locked together, and eyelids tightly pinched together.

"I—I don't know. When I came to see if you wished to order, he—he collapsed!" the slave answered, her feathers betraying her distress as they started to stand on end, fluffing out. Hitomi nodded absently, smoothing the black hair away from her slave's face. Even in such obvious agony, not a single groan or pained sound left his lips.

"Is _this_ your escort?" Dilandau asked in a snide voice.

The petite slave and Hitomi both tensed at the man's approach. The blonde woman made sure the now- dark red pendant on the stallion's neck was tucked beneath his shirt before placing her hand over the spot it lay under his shirt before the Dilandau could see it. Knowing the prying man would question her, she began to formulate a verbal escape route in her mind.

The knight was well-known for his single minded determination. Once someone or something got into his blood, it was impossible to shake him from it.

Unfortunately, Hitomi Kanzaki was one of those things he refused to let go. His lifelong ambition and livelihood was in the destruction of the Other race. If he was as up-to-date on the going-ons of magic as he boasted, she didn't want him to recognize a restraining

"He is—anemic," Hitomi lied. It seemed that she had been doing more than her fair share of rewriting the truth that day. Having been friends with the medically-minded Milernia, she was familiar enough with common ailments to sound like she knew what she spoke about—she hoped.

"I'll prepare him a room upstairs," the master of the inn assured. "Anne, go, and make ready a room for Miss Kanzaki's guest."

"_No!"_ Hitomi yelped, then, at the surprised looks she received from such a display of passion, she quickly fumbled out an explanation. "I apologize but I think it is best if I take him to his cousin, otherwise Mr. DeCri will worry for the safety of us both."

The old keep mulled over the thought and then nodded.

"As you wish. Go fetch Miss Kanzaki's horseman and carriage."

The bird-like slave, who had not taken her frightened eyes from the knight, jerkily nodded and then turned, and swiftly abandoned the room. Dilandau sneered as he watched the Avian's departure and turned back to the blonde and stranger with a deep scowl.

"I'll prepare something more substantial for him than mere cookies and tea for your trip home," the master smiled at Hitomi, who weakly returned it, before he stood to his short height. "Do you need me to call a doctor?"

"I thank you, no," she answered softly, "I am sure that rest and a good meal will allow a full recovery."

The master bowed and turned to leave, casting a warning glare at the knight as he passed him. Ignoring the look, the pale man grabbed a chair and situated it next to the worried woman. Sitting, he crossed his arms, and propped one ankle on the other knee.

She felt her nerves wear thinner under the pink-eyed scrutiny of the man next to her. Did he know of Milernia's gift? Did her unnamed male show some sign of being an Other that only the sharp eyes of Dilandau could notice?

The man _killed_ Others and did so with the royal family's blessing. Though it was rumored that the murderer enjoyed playing with his prey, Hitomi doubted he would think twice about beheading a defenseless slave inside a respected place in front of anyone, herself included.

There was a painful silence, only broken by the scratching of the male's fingernails against the polished hardwood floor as if trying to fight off an unseen force.

Hitomi was beside herself, not only could she not ask for a doctor, she couldn't even request the help of a magic maker. The doctor would _doubtlessly_ find physical evidence in the male's physic, though she could not tell a difference from a human man and her stallion. However, she still had innocent eyes to the male _human_ form, and refused to inspect the flesh of the stallion.

The magician, a human magic maker, would take less time to decipher the truth as to what the handsome stranger was. Which, much to her flustered, vexed brain, made a question arise: what _type_ of Other _was_ her stallion?

"I don't believe you gave me his name," Dilandau stated in a smooth and cold as steel tone, jarring her back to the present.

"When he isn't passed out or in pain, I'll be sure to introduce you properly," she retorted, not bothering to even cast him a glance.

"Make sure you do," the knight replied in a cold, commanding tone as if he had some unspoken _right_ to order her about.

It was with a grateful and relieved heart that Anne returned, curtsied, and quietly announced that the carriage was waiting for them. Hitomi thanked the female, to which the knight snorted, and then the slight woman attempted to but failed in trying to move the male with her strength.

"Would you please assist me in getting him to my carriage, Sir Albatou?" Asking him for _anything_ left a bitter and nauseating taste in her mouth.

Raising a single slim eyebrow the knight did not answer, but instead called for one of his men. When a younger, sandy blonde haired man came into the room, the knight gestured to the unconscious body on the floor.

"Get him into Miss Kanzaki's carriage," Dilandau instructed in a bored tone.

"Yes, sir," the underling replied, called for one of his fellow riders to assist, and then set about hefting up the male. With one of the slave's arms around each of the soldiers' necks, they wrapped an arm each around his torso, and kept him steady by putting their other hand on his chest. His feet dragged the floor as they moved, but it was far better than Hitomi could have done.

With a quick curtsy and even quicker thank you, the woman followed the men. The master had already collected her things, and while he assisted her with her light jacket, Dilandau emerged from the tea room, leaned on the doorjamb and stared at her.

"Are you going to travel _alone_ with an unknown man? You might have the driver, but he is _outside_ the box," he started with a slow grin forming as she frowned. "You should know how brutal and bored the imaginations of the gentry are recently. What _would_ they say about it?"

"Anne will accompany her," the inn keeper stated, crossing his arms, and steadying his eyes on the taller, younger man. "There will be no problems if two ladies and a gentleman travel together, is that not right, _sir_?"

Dilandau's eyes narrowed, the grin melting into a straight line of displeasure as the young Avian was told to grab her cloak and the basket filled with the promised food.

"You would let one of those _creatures_ sit inside your box?" the repulsion dripped off his words. "_That_ might be more damaging to your brittle reputation than the first circumstance."

Fed up and ready to leave, Hitomi turned to him and with her civilly snide voice, replied, "Either I am to be a harlot or an Other sympathizer. It seems that regardless of what I do, I will be on the tips of wagging tongues."

As she left, the knight, highly displeased with the situation at hand, watched her like a cat did a wounded bird. After her coachman snapped the whip, the horses jerked forward and within a few minutes, the carriage was gone from his sight.

"I don't think she cares for you too much anymore," Gatti remarked as he stood next to his leader, who had one of the heavy drapes pulled back from one of the large windows that looked out over the road.

"It's not about _caring_, it's about opportunity and manipulating," Dilandau countered. With a click of his tongue, he let the fabric fall back into its place, and turned to his second-in-command. "And to do that to the best of my ability, I need you to find out everything you can about this 'cousin'. I let DeCri slip by, but I will not have a group of men invading what _will_ be my home."


	4. The Problem

**Chapter Four**

* * *

**Authoress' Notes:** Again, though the idea is "pleasure slave," the rating will not match the concept. Meaning that I might lead you to the bedroom, but the door will be slammed in your face. I don't do lemon/lime/smut/etc. I will boost the rating if I feel like it is toeing the line a bit too much. So, that being expressed, for those looking for a quick fix sex fic, this is not it. ^^

**Authroess' Thanks**: To **Rad **for being the awesome, patient, and totally talented beta that she is! If this story is legible and makes sense, then thank her! :D Also, to all who reviewed, fav'ed, and are lurking in the shadows, thank you so much for reading this!

**Explanation of terms**: This was sort of a back and forth between Rad and I, so I felt some explanation of terms used should be given. A _land steward _is a man who was responsible all the things (rent, farms, etc) that produced money for the estate. A _house steward_ is basically like a modern day human resources who hires, fires, and pays the other staff. Armand is the _steward_, I gave him both jobs of the house and land steward.

Next, I have Yukari as the _housekeeper_, which means she is in charge of the female servants and for keeping the house in order. Rad pointed out that the term might be confused with 'maid' but I am using the term as associated with the Victorian times. ^^;

Also, a _cordwainer_ is just a fancy word for boot/shoe maker.

If you have any other questions, just feel free to note me or leave it in the review.

Now, onto the story!

* * *

The stallion, once outside of the city limits, stopped clawing and jerking and instead was deathly still. Hitomi felt her stomach turn to lead when nothing seemed to break him from his deep sleep. Anne, the Avian slave, tried to comfort the distraught woman but warm tears still fell.

When they arrived at _Terra_ with the unconscious male, she directed the attendants to place him in the rooms previously occupied by her brother. Regardless of Armand's harping and grumbling, Hitomi refused to leave the male's side until he woke.

If he was ill, she didn't want to tempt fate by leaving him alone if he became worse. Also, she still had a little apprehension over how the pendants they wore functioned. If she wandered too far away, would his collar react in a deadly way? It would be cruel to test the limits of the magic when half of the set was unconscious.

It was during this time that Armand had interrogated her about not only what happened (though he assumed she had hit the stallion over the head with something), but how her plotting had not been discovered by the locals.

"You said he was _my_ cousin?" Armand questioned slowly, as if each word was new to his tongue.

"Yes."

"And he comes from the—far country?"

"Mmm," Hitomi agreed, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears. "It seemed the best choice."

The man snorted.

"And _why_ do you think I will go along with your charade?"

Hitomi turned, so her steward could see one eyebrow raised in challenge. "Do I need to remind you that there is _still_ the little matter of you dipping into my fortune, _without_ my consent, two winters ago to take that strumpet on holiday?"

"Strumpet? I thought Eries was your friend," he coughed, diverting his eyes to another area of the room.

"Oh, she _is_, but when she goes on holiday on _my_ coin, she's a strumpet."

Yukari, who was the housekeeper and partner in mischief during their childhood days, made no remark as she brought Hitomi a bowl, cloth, and pitcher of water and placed it on the small table next to the bed. The housekeeper, with an amused smile tugging on her lips, explained to the blonde what purpose the supplies were intended for and watched as the mistress colored to a scarlet hue.

His clothes were soaked through with sweat, if Hitomi did not wish for him to become more ill, she needed to have his body wiped down, if not from head to toe, then at least all the skin _above_ his belt. At the sputtering, dread-filled green eyes, Yukari laughed and offered to fetch one of the other servants to complete the chore.

Hitomi, even as mortified as she felt, glanced down at the stallion. There were those in her home who were oblivious to his true nature. What would he do if he woke and found a strange male touching him? When Yukari had returned from her honeymoon, she took the place of the normal chamber maid and wanted to surprise Hitomi with her return by waking her up for the day. It was the poor woman who was more surprised when she opened the door, only to be thrown to the ground and pinned with an irate male snarling above her.

No, Hitomi wouldn't allow any of her staff to face such a volatile temper as the male displayed. He was _her_ responsibility, and he _knew_ her so the chances of him attacking were greatly diminished.

"I'll do it," Hitomi's voice came out stronger than she actually felt.

"No," Armand snapped. However, when Yukari cocked one side of her hips out, put a hand on the hip, poked him in the chest, and asked if _he_ would rather do it, the male yelped out another firm _no. _

Hitomi's lower lip suffered her anxiety as she chewed on it, glancing from the bowl, cloth, and pitcher to her stallion, and then back to the duo. Steeling her nerves, though she felt like jelly on the inside, she shooed both housekeeper and steward from the room. If she had to undress the male, she didn't need an audience to snicker at her during the embarrassing procedure.

The blankets were already pulled off and away from his body, since they found him to be overly warm instead of chilled. The only barrier between his skin and her duty was his shirt.

The irony of the situation had not escaped her as she, with trembling fingers and crimson stained cheeks, worked at unbuttoning his damp top. She had spent most of the morning trying to get him dressed and in the evening of the same day, she was divesting him of the clothes with her own hands!

Once done with the buttons, she took a deep, steadying breath and pinching her eyelids shut she tried to rationalize within herself that she had seen his flesh many, _many_ times.

This would _not_ be a problem!

Gripping either section of the shirt, she carefully but quickly jerked the material to either side of his body and then released it. Snatching her hands back, the blonde let out the breath she'd been holding and pried one eye open.

Oh, this _was_ going to be a problem.

Her lips parted, both eyes flying open wide as she felt the flush of attraction scorch her veins. She _had_ seen him in every state of undress before but never had her heart raced like it did with him lying still before her attentive eyes. Never in the short time he had been with her had she removed any of his clothes or even touched his skin. It was a thrill to her unsullied body to have someone at her fingertips; vulnerable, beautiful, and only _hers_.

At this thought, her mouth became dry as a lump simultaneously formed in her throat.

Hitomi visually roamed the dips and curves of every muscle he possessed, the smoothness and strength caused a more elemental part of her swoon at the clear _maleness_ of the motionless stallion. Her hands itched to touch the skin so temptingly unprotected; but instead she followed the line created between the his muscles of his lower stomach and followed it up to his chest.

His skin was smooth, sun darkened, and free of any unseemly hair. She had been around men all her life, if not the gentry, then the help and farmhands, yet she'd only ever seen a few who had a few buttons undone, leaving enough space for anyone to note the thick hair covering their chests.

Swallowing the lump, she slowly rose to her feet, filled the bowl and dipped the towel into the water. Wringing it out, she returned to the bed, and situated herself next to the male so her hip was level with his recently admired torso. Sucking in and biting down on her lip, she focused on the task instead of the warm flesh underneath her hand.

In his rest he looked peaceful, as if he wasn't enslaved, and completely human. How any of her peers could see someone like him and consider them worth less than a bug, she couldn't understand. He was real, _breathing_, with thoughts, and understanding. Didn't they see that?

Hitomi was far from a revolutionary though she had often been disgusted with the cruelty extended to the slaves. Society was imperfect at best and hypocritically chaotic on its rainy days.

Slaves were _always_ magick users. From the stories of old, there had once been a tense peace between the two races. That was, until, humans found ways to capture and subdue the Others. Since then they had sought to belittle and conquer the poor beasts. Beastmen were often used for hard labor, while those who could transform their images into a humanlike appearance found work within the house. If one of the species was perceived as particularly beautiful, they were used for the more fleshly pleasures.

A lady, such as herself, was forbidden from taking a gentleman to her bed before wedlock, it was simply not done in good society. However, for an unmarried lady to take one or several stallions to her bedroom was perfectly acceptable. They weren't human and therefore not counted as a lover.

Hitomi's thoughts distracted her discomfort long enough for her to finish the chore without another blush or racy thought entering her mind. As she dropped the cloth on the table, she turned back to the male, and reached out to gently brushing the bangs from his face.

Her hand was snatched by a stronger, larger one. Before she could make a sound or sense of what was happening, she was yanked further into the bed, on top of the stallion, and then she was rolled on to her back by the male who was supposed to be passed out.

"Wha—!"

Using her shock and his strength to his advantage, the stallion managed to shove a leg between hers, capture both of her wrists, and hold them securely above her head with one of his hands while the other was digging into her stomach with the tips of his fingers hard enough to hurt.

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and when she looked to his face making out the narrowed, hatred darkened his eyes that filled her with panic.

When her startled, frightful gasp reached his ears, the stallion flinched. Anger quickly washed away from his face when his deep, red eyes locked on her confused features. The snarl melted and in its place formed a ghost of a smirk, as he gave her an ire-raising wink.

"You were _pretending_!" Hitomi screeched, wiggling underneath him, trying to free herself. He kept her pinned in place with his weight on her legs and his hand tightening around her wrists. He had eased the pressure on her stomach and instead, set his hand at the curve of her hip. At her desperate maneuvers and angry shouts, only his eyebrows moved.

The musculature she had only recently admired was now the bane of her existence. Restraining her took very little effort on his part; she was now sure since he did not appear to strain. Oh, when she got free she was going to horsewhip him! Hitomi had been around horses all her life and though violence was not her way of breaking a stubborn male, it was quickly scaling to the top.

"I was _worried _you ungrateful ruffian! I should have the animal doctor castrate you—!"

The male's ear caught the faintest noise of shoe leather scrapping the floors in the hall, a sound too light for the distracted human to notice, and his face became etched with a dark, wicked grin as he swiftly tucked her hands to his chest and rolled.

Her shouting alerted to the two bodies waiting for permission to be let back into the room. Armand flung the door open, prepared to make the creature bleed when he stopped short in disbelief and disgust. The maid was on his heels, and knocked into his back when he suddenly stopped.

Peering around the side of the stone-shocked steward, Yukari's eyes widened at the sight before her.

"Ma'am!" Yukari chided, trying to restrain her laughter at the terrified expression on the blonde. "You should wait to bed with him, since he's only just recovered."

Hitomi's face was bright red and hot with embarrassment at her friend's frankness and misunderstanding of the situation. When the stallion had rolled, just before their entry, Hitomi ended up straddling his hips, with her hands being held securely to his bare chest. She had been far too stunned to realize what he was doing until Armand barreled through the door and halted with his eyes going wide, eyebrows arching far on his forehead, and his mouth parting in astonishment.

The mortified woman yanked to free her hands from the smug stallion who allowed her the freedom. Not expecting him to suddenly be so compliant, Hitomi ended up falling back on the bed and his legs. Scrambling off the bed, not caring about how her dress twisted or lifted as she did so. She shot a withering glare at the reclined male and marched to the servants who had recovered from the scene only to be biting their lips to keep the laughter from agitating their employer more.

"This was –he was _faking_! I didn't—! _Oh!_" She threw her hands up in frustration, pushed past the audience and thundered down the hall in righteous anger and humiliation.

* * *

Hitomi slammed the book shut in aggravation, slumped down in her seat, and huffed. Her eyes and back ached from the endless hours spent reading, hunched over whatever manuscript she had laid out in front of her. She had been through what felt like every book in her library that could possible hold even just a passing reference of the Others race. From children's storybooks to thick scientific tomes of anatomy, nothing was left unexplored, and yet all left her with the same burning, unanswered question.

What type of Other _was_ her stallion?

It was leading her into madness since the question formed nearly a week ago when her stallion had an unexpected reaction to—to _something_. He might have been playing possum toward the end of his sickness, but no one was talented enough to cause themselves to perspire, pale, and all the other symptoms he had displayed while in town.

Leaning forward, she snatched up another book, placed it in front of her only to rest her head on the stiff, hard cover and whimper in despair.

Calloused fingertips ghosted down the back of her neck and across one shoulder, sending a tremor through her and causing goosebumps to form on her arms. Tired as she was, she still had her pride!

Sitting up straight she grabbed her fan and snapped it across the knuckles of his roaming hand, or such had been her intentions. Instead of striking him, the side of the chair's back fell victim to her attack.

Turning to scowl at the grinning beast of burden, Hitomi still felt it a real possibility to return him to the princess and let _her_ deal with his immature and impish ways.

If _what_ he was taking her down the road to madness, the bothersome male was almost _gleefully _driving the coach to get her there.

Scowling at him as he easily picked up a random book from the tabletop and flipped through it, stopping on the pages with pictures, he huffed or smirked before continuing on.

The stallion found it highly entertaining to add to her lunacy with his petty antics in trying to steal her attention away from whatever tome she had in front of her. Light touches, puffs of breath on her exposed skin, nips, and kisses along her neck all served to derail her from her task. Each time she would try to hit him with her fan, hand, or book, anything that was readily available. She had thrown several items at him, but stopped after a well of black ink shattered and soaked into one of her mother's favorite tapestries.

She had tried to chase him from the room, but found it as successful as the first time she had tried to get him out of her bedroom, which meant she utterly failed. He was like a fly, and she honey—annoyed, aggravated, and defeated honey to a seducing, smug fly.

He had been nothing of help in her search. When Hitomi questioned him, he would lull his head to the side showing his attention to her words, but only stare. Never did he give a nod, shake, or even a twitch of his lips. Yet she was now _sure_ that despite his silence, he understood every syllable she uttered, yet he _chose_ not to listen. He heard her just fine, seemingly understood, but never responded, with speech or clear body language. Such assumptions thinned her already hair trigger nerves and temper.

Speculations about his race weren't the only thing about the male that was causing her to want to rip her hair out. Since his trickery, Hitomi had redoubled her efforts of keeping him from her rooms, but it was in vein. Nothing could keep the scamp from her personal chamber.

The first night, she had locked him out, believing it would be enough. The following morning, she found him in her bed; at least until she grabbed her pillow and repeatedly smacked him until he scurried away from the feather-filled weapon and its wielder.

The following night Hitomi had posted two footmen outside of the sitting room entrance connected to her bed chamber and left them with firm orders that the male was not allowed to cross the threshold. From there, she locked the door, pulled the curtains, and waited in her bed with arms crossed with a single candle burning. She intended to wait him out but ended up a prisoner of sleep. He, again, was in her bed when morning came and received the same goose-down welcome as the previous day. The make-shift guards had no explanation to offer as to _how_ he kept sneaking in since they testified neither of them had fallen asleep while on duty as to let him slip by them.

After days of failed attempts, she was sure she had made her room impenetrable. Hitomi had barricaded the door leading into her room and the double doors to the balcony with any piece of furniture she could move with her meager strength. Each entry had two male servants posted on the outside. The door handles were tightly wound with thin, strong rope making it near impossible to open.

Her sanity might have been put into question, but she was not going to be played like a piano and not snap at the fingers of the player. Instead of dressing for and climbing into her bed, the mistress of Terra Manor stayed upright, leaning on the only wall that did not have a door or window built into it.

Just when she was sure that she had snapped, a jingling of keys caught her attention. Hitomi bestowed almost anything that she could think of on the slave, but _keys_ to her _room_ had not been one of them. Crossing her arms, the blonde quietly walked until she was facing the doors from her sitting room to her bedroom and waited.

There was a curse in a familiar voice that caused her blood to blister. There was a _traitor_ in her midst. Tightly balled fists at the end of painfully straight arms, Hitomi waited and watched as a slim blade eased through the crack between the doors. It took a few moments for the intruder to successfully slice through the twine that tied the knobs together, another minute or so to push open the door, and a heartbeat for her traitor to get a punch to his nose.

"_Traitor_!" Hitomi accused in a hiss as Armand blinked back the tears, one hand, the one with the keys, covering his bleeding nose. The stallion's mouth kicked back into a pleased grin when her flashing green eyes locked on his form. While her _paid_ steward had been toiling his way into her bed chambers, the slave had been sitting on one of the couches, one elbow on the arm with his chin propped on a the hand.

"It was either I let him in _your_ room or he would stay and _stare_ at me in mine!" Armand bristled, hysteric about the prospect of having an all-night male visitor.

"It was _you_ all this time!" As Hitomi took an angered step forward, Armand took two stumbling backward. "_Turncoat!_" She stomped her foot as punctuation, when the steward's retreat was cut off by the high-backed the couch, he let out a nervous titter.

"And the men I posted to protect me?" she demanded.

Swallowing a thick lump in his throat, Armand shrugged ever so slightly.

"You may appoint the wages, but I hand them out."

Her lips twitched in anger. Not only had her steward turned traitor but her other servants were able to be bribed with _her _money! She reached out toward him, the man flinched but she snatched away the keys, turned on her heels and slammed the door shut.

The stallion was waiting for her, smirking, on her bed. She had taken a knitting needle to bed with her that night, ire at the treachery overriding the annoyance of the slave for the time.

Just the memories of the week past and lack of comfortable sleep had the woman clutching the edges of the antique book roughly. Glaring at the male who was in the room, she gave an indelicate huff.

"Can't you go chase mice or something?" Hitomi questioned, propping the new reference book on a stack of let-down literature and giving him a slight wave of her hand as if to shoo him away. "You know, be a productive _pet_?"

A black eyebrow cocked at her intended insult and she missed the dangerous glint in his eye as he silently set the book down on the window sill he was roosting on. He was going to show a smidgen of mercy and allow her to thumb through her books, but with a sassy little bout off like that, he had a change in plans.

His little owner had become more aware of his presence since their trip to the town, but as she started to be drawn into the printed word, she soon forgot he was even alive. Slipping behind her chair, he peered around the side of its high wooden back and inspected the page she was studying.

She had gone from guessing him to be a type of landed mer-folk and was trying to find similarities between the undead and him. Rolling his eyes at her senseless guessing, he focused on her pendant as it thrummed with healthy energy. It had not attacked him, even in her ire, since he woke up in the strange room and nearly disemboweled her.

Oh, the little human had no idea how close to death she had been that evening. He had not been acting as long as she assumed he had been. The truth of the matter was he only came to a few heartbeats before he grappled her to the bed. Instincts of survival had him ready to gut the perceived foe, who was Hitomi, by digging his claws into her soft belly. Then the magic flared, dulling his energy, and flooding his awareness of fear not his own. His eyes had locked on hers, a gasp escaping her mouth, and whatever the odd spell was, it brushed against his core, wrenching him from the feral state of fight or flight.

When his more mannerly side returned to control, the stallion did not want to let his temporary animalistic state be known and instead decided to play with her. Hitomi was a little ball of fire and fury ever since and it made her so much more fun to tease and torment.

Giving a mischievous ghost of a grin, he focused on the reading woman and angled himself to slip his upper body into the space left between the back of the chair and her; he put an arm on either side of her body, trapping her against table and his chest. It took him a breath's time to complete the move, and it was too fast for her to jerk herself from the slumped-over position or make a grab for her portable weapon she called a fan. Not wanting to give her another target, he kept himself seated on the arm of the chair, hips turned away from any pointed elbows.

"Wha—!" She tried to sit up straight, but found the warm and heavy male an unyielding obstacle.

Her cheeks colored a bright rose red as he readjusted to rest his chin on her shoulder and rubbed his cheek against hers.

His smug grin deepened when he heard her swallow hard. Oh, there were so many tempting torturous touches he could implement and have her shrieking in defiance. Turning and lowering his face only marginally, he exhaled slowly, causing his breath to waft across her neck, pleased with the way her skin goosebumped in response.

"I-I told you—"

With his lips at the curve of her jaw, the male easily affected Hitomi's ability to have coherent thought which meant she could not properly arrange the words to threaten him. She was tense, still fighting him with her mind but her body was allowing natural stimulation and attraction to lead. As he nipped her lightly where her neck curved into her shoulder and then kissed the area unhurriedly, he heard her suck in a deep breath.

His maroon eyes flashed darkly as he wrapped his fingers around each of her wrists and leisurely drew his hands down the length of her forearm. Only pausing to change his hold, he then tightened his grip moderately without causing pain, but just enough to remind her of his underlying strength.

The pendant he wore bumped against her skin, sending warm tingles through her body as well as his. That wasn't the worse reaction he could have been dealt from the unexplored magic.

Curious, he narrowed his eyes slightly, observing as his magick and the magic from the small jewel flared and surrounded her in its soft, iridescent glow. The gold of his energy and the vague pink of the pendant's created abilities didn't clash in a vicious battle for dominance as he had expected. It was what the two different powers _did_. They weren't meant to co-exist or be nearly flirtatious with their interactions, but for some reason his and hers _were_.

As he increased the pressure behind his kisses, flexed his fingers tighter on her arms, and waited to see how the magic would react. The surface of the jewel kept in constant contact with her skin.

"S-stop that," she commanded weakly, his touch making it hard to put conviction into her statement. Doubtlessly, Hitomi would have swatted at him, but his firm hold prevented her from attempting such an act or from slipping away.

She _deserved_ this torment for trying to brush him off. Also, he hadn't been able to study the magic while she was awake out of consideration for her taking care of him while he had been vulnerable. But the time of thanks was past and he needed to learn from her what he could.

As she started to squirm in her seat, trying to fidget her way to freedom, the male let a low, soft growl out as he bit down on her neck, hard. Releasing her from his bite, he rolled his tongue delicately on the skin before moving back marginally to inspect his work.

A sly grin covered his face as he noted that it _would_ leave a common characteristic of—intimate contact. Oh, she'd be doubly the spitfire she was currently whenever she realized he'd marked her.

The male smiled and buried his nose into her soft hair. The little human was very fond of her baths and took one almost nightly, for which his sensitive nose was appreciative.

Hitomi's head lulled forward, her breath coming out in a light pant. With all intentions to continue his distraction and testing, the male started forward.

_Thwack!_

The back of her head was introduced to his nose with a firm, purposeful jerking back of her head. Stunned by the attack, his grip loosened. Hitomi did not waste the opportunity and slithered to her freedom by slipping down and off her seat until she was under the table. Crawling, much like a child, to the other side, she popped up from the floor with a fierce expression.

He rubbed his nose, eyes tapered and streaked with a bright red as he watched her plant her hands on her hips.

"That'll teach you," she boasted, reaching up to rub the spot where her skull had met his nose.

Blinking in surprise of her attitude, he then let a small grin tweak his lips before he lunged across the table.

This meant _war_.

* * *

"Miss Hitomi," Yukari knocked gently on the door as she gradually entered the library. Having a book thrown at her once in the past week was enough to practice great caution when entering any room shared by the mistress of the house and the stallion.

As her eyes landed on the pair, her mouth fell open in alarm. There was no way she could simply turn around and ignore the _highly_ improper scene before her.

On the other side of the table in the middle of the room, Hitomi had one foot planted firmly on the floor with the other leg straight out, foot on the chest of the stallion who was caressing the calf with a pull of his lips that was too full of dark pleasurable promise to be a titled a smile. The skirt of her dress was sliding, slip and all, up her leg the longer she held it out. In one hand Hitomi held a book far above her head and the other grasped the side of the table for support and balance. The blonde had a look of fearful, blushing determination as she leaned further on the table, trying to both keep the male at bay and put more distance between them.

"My _lady_!" Yukari cried in a tone between offense and hilarity. "What is the meaning of this!"

"I," Hitomi huffed out, thrashing her literary weapon at her attacker, "am doing what it takes to keep him from doing any more than he already _has_ or," she gritted her teeth together to fight off the goose bumps and butterflies tickling their way to the surface as he delicate brushed his calloused fingertips under her knee, "or _is _doing!"

Varying her gaze from the woman to the male, Yukari fought down the burning need to blurt out that Hitomi was failing fabulously at her intended goal. It was either to say something such as that or burst out laughing at the prim and proper mistress being in such a stance and with the curtains pulled open for the entire world to see!

"I—well," she cleared her throat, "You have company, m'lady," Yukari managed without a chuckle, simply because she was biting the inside of her cheek.

Hitomi glanced to the door, to her housekeeper, and then snapped her eyes to the male of her troubles. Pinning him with an icy glare, the woman quickly surmised a way to get out of the room, away from the overly friendly creature, and to whomever was the blessed guest.

His eyes had streaked with a faint red and glittered of mischievous intent; a trait she could only guess was from his Other nature. It might have been only a minor change, but she had grown accustomed to his brown colored eyes, so the change was noticeable in a slightly alarming way. However, there wasn't a single doubt in her mind that the sudden change of color in his irises could only mean one thing, he was planning on causing _more_ trouble.

Swallowing, the woman mentally counted to three before she threw the book at his head. With a marginal shift, the projectile sailed harmlessly past his face as it grew cockier in expression with every heartbeat.

So that hadn't worked, not like she thought it would, but it meant that there was only one thing left for her to do. Yanking her foot from his grip, she twisted her body around, climbed and scuttled over the top of the table, sending various books tumbling down from their piles and unto the floor. Making it to the other side, Hitomi put her hand on one of the only books with a dust jacket, and as it slipped from underneath her, she and the tome went down to the hardwood floor.

Both the male and Yukari watched the stunt that only took ten seconds to act out, with raised eyebrows. As Hitomi clambered to her feet, straightened her dress and hair, she cleared her throat, and marched to the door with as much dignity as she could pull together.

"Come along, Mrs. Susumu," the blonde instructed as she briskly walked past the servant into the hall.

Yukari glanced at Hitomi's retreating back and then to the cross-armed stallion who looked overly pleased with himself. She gave him a lopsided smile, shook her head, and closed the door as she left.

The male dropped all pretense of amusement after he heard the _click_ of the latch catching.

Something was strange about the magic. Over his life he had been trained in or battled a fair share of the various incantations and artifacts that Man had made. This was something—different. It was like having a phantom taste in the back of his mouth that he couldn't clearly identify or a forgotten song when all he could was a few notes of the melody.

It was familiar, but in a distant way. Eyeing the door that the women had left through, he wondered if perhaps he should have inclined one of the princess' into bed and therefore granting him residence in the palace.

No, he shook his head; the fortress was not protected by magic so much as it has surrounded by anti-magick barriers. The king, he understood from what he had learned personally and by spied, had a distinct hate for all things magickal, and refused them admittance into his home.

At this, the stallion snorted lightly. How he had been able to stay in the palace while in the care of the mindless heirs was due to extreme wealth and corrupt magicians. She had paid one of the castle guardians to simply _ignore _the presence of magick in the wing she shared with her family.

Nothing was laid on _him_, spell or rune, nothing he could recall and there wasn't the repulsive film of Man magic on his core or skin. He plucked up the pendant between a finger and his thumb, studying its smooth surface and intricate metal designs. Narrowing his eyes, seeing with his energy rather than fleshly orbs, there was no flare of disturbed etchings, nothing that gave evidence of it being enchanted.

Huffing, he dropped the trinket and centered his magick safely again. If it wasn't enchanted than how could he not _remove _it? He had tried, only a few times, but by different means. He could not simply unlatch it as it seemed to be one solid stripe of leather that was also too small to pull over his head. Knives and fire had only left him aggravated and nursing sore fingers.

The thought of Man's new ability to _hide_ their mediocre magic led the male to believe that they could do it with the more lethal of their sorcery. The library the woman had spent most of her waking hours in these past days offered him no insights into human accomplishments. For whatever curious reason, there were many a book and frail sheepskin scroll dedicated to the understanding of _his_ kind. Oh, there were plenty of additional manuscripts readily available for other subjects, but it still was intriguing that her family should own so many about the supposed weak-minded race.

Frowning deeply, he moved toward the door, intent on inspecting who had invaded his current domicile, obviously uninvited, and to see what the consequences were when he enticed her in front of company.

* * *

Yukari opened the door to the less formal drawing room that was reserved for the family or intimate friends. As she crossed the threshold, all pretenses Hitomi had forced on her face dispelled into a sour eyed pout upon seeing just who the guest was waiting for her.

"Hitomi!" Millernia cooed, turning from the large windows that overlooked the veranda and expansive cleared fields that lay in the back of the estate. Moving toward Hitomi, she opened her arms, expecting the friendly and warm embrace that had for years marked their greetings.

Instead, Hitomi kept her nose tipped up and walked directly past her guest.

"Hitomi?"

"Yukari, do you hear a cow mooing?" Hitomi questioned innocently, pretending to look about the room in search for a bovine as she positioned herself on the edge of one of the plush couches.

Yukari, who started to pour the tea, only smiled and shook her head at her friend. She knew better than to get in between banter or petty disagreements that Hitomi was having with whomever. It's what kept her employed.

"_Hitomi_," Millernia sighed, "I thought you would have worked out your stress with my gift by now."

"Perhaps it's a dog barking," the short-haired blonde shrugged, picking up her needlepoint project and setting it in her lap.

"Most would be throwing themselves at my feet in gratitude," the princess pouted. "Instead you're angry with me." She seemed to think if over and dejectedly puffed out, "_Again_."

"Oh, no! I know what it is! It's that mangy stray cat that is always _yowling_ for a mate." It was then that Hitomi pinned her friend with a scathing look.

Millernia rolled her cerulean eyes to the ceiling and then back on to the hostess, in a very unladylike fashion, the princess dropped down on a seat. Slumping forward she tucked a hand under her chin and propped the elbow on her knee.

"Was he not to your liking? Would you have preferred something with more flesh and less muscle?" The guest opened her eyes wide as she sat up straight at the sudden, unexpected possibility. "I do hope you did not wish for a _female_ instead."

Distracted from her pretend attention to her needlepoint, Hitomi's green eyes widened and blazed with the indignity of the statement.

"_No_," she replied hotly. "I would _not_. I have trouble enough with female _friends_ that I would never be inclined to have one for a—a—" Her tongue tied tightly in her mouth, unwilling to spit out the word needed to finish her thought.

Perking her eyebrows, Millernia did not share her hardship and finished it for her, "A lover?"

Her cheeks splashed red at the intimate label. Hitomi was a bit of a prude to her friends, especially the _royal_ friends, but in a society that was so obtuse and favored males, she found she'd rather be straight-laced than constantly _unlaced_.

"Yes, well," was all the poor manor owner could mutter out, thankful that Yukari had placed the tea tray on the low sitting table between Hitomi and Millernia could now be a diversion. Folding her hands neatly across her apron, the servant waited until her mistress glanced up and asked if they needed anything more. Hitomi thanked her and waved her off. Millernia, per normal, ignored the mere working class female and so with a curtsy, Yukari left the room.

When the door was firmly shut, the princess couldn't contain her curiosity anymore.

"So, how is he?" she begged to know, running her finger along the rim of the teacup she'd picked up.

Hitomi took a sip from her own cup and mulled over an appropriate answer. She could tell her of the aggravation he caused with his elusiveness, the hair-pulling impish streak he possessed, or even his less than apathetic attitude toward clothes. Instead, she elected to be short and vague.

"He is—adapting well," the woman answered, a smile hidden by the rim of her cup she held against her lips.

"That is _not _what I meant!" Millernia trilled and in a lower voice clarified, "I meant in _bed_."

Hitomi's eyebrows drew together in the middle of her forehead, all as part of her clueless act.

"He sleeps well, I believe," she replied and continued after a moment of reflection, "and thankfully he seems to be house trained, so I do not have any questionable puddles in the bed or about the house."

The heiress' face was priceless as it crumbled into disbelief and disappointment, and nearly broke the ignorant play Hitomi was putting on. Glancing about the room, as if to make sure a few gypsies and jesters weren't going to come tumbling out from the woodwork, Millernia then stared at her friend with half-lowered lids.

Hitomi met the stern blue eyes for a second before gingerly sipping her tea, averting her gaze.

"I see," the princess stated in an unpleased, yet authoritative tone.

It was a game they often played, and knew that eventually one would have to break. Either the princess would forfeit in a displeased grumble or Hitomi would pour forth all the intimate details of her encounters with the stallion which, in complete honesty, was not as intimate as Millernia was hoping.

As the seconds crept by, marked only by the steady ticking of the Grandfather clock, the females came to an impasse. The tension brewed, thickening with each heartbeat and building a pressure on both as they waited for the other to buckle under the strain of the noiselessness.

Not able to handle it, Hitomi tipped her head to the side in thoughtfulness.

"How does one keep a stallion _out of _one's bed?" she questioned.

Perplexed the princess blinked at the question before speaking her assumption, "Do you prefer nonconventional areas of the room over the bed? The floor perhaps? Or the bathing tub? I hope you are not one who desires an _audience_."

Hitomi's blush was hot as the tea she choked on.

"_No_, I simply mean how do I keep him from always entering my room and my bed?"

"Has he too much stamina for you?" Millernia's expression was between concern and awe. "_That_ is a problem I have yet to hear about."

Flustered and frustrated Hitomi groaned and rolled her eyes as she let her head drop back.

The soft sound of the door rubbing against the rug broke the conversation off, as curious eyes darted to the entryway. With a gentle _click_, the stallion shut them off from the world outside of the room, leaning against the door he'd closed. His head was lowered slightly, allowing the thick bangs to cover his eyes, giving him an eerie air of mystery. His palms were pressed lightly on the smooth wood, as he cautiously crossed one ankle over the other.

Hitomi had given an annoyed scowl that lasted only a heartbeat before she jerked her head downward, and jabbed the needle of her project into the canvas angrily. Shifting, she left her back to both the guests, not overly pleased with either of them at the present time.

"Oh!" Millernia shot to her feet upon recognizing the male and made her way toward him. Moving around the couch she'd been sitting on that was situated with its wooden back parallel to the door, to get a better inspection of him. "My, but you are even more delectable than I remembered."

Something about the male made the fine hair on her neck and arm stand on end, and not in the way she supposed he would.

When she was within arms' reach, his head lifted enough to allow his eyes to fixate on her. There was gleam in the way he scrutinized her that stopped her short and broke the grin she'd been wearing. Bright ginger dashes, like lightening in a dark sky, traced through the dark brown color of his eyes. His intent stare was frigid and filled with a malicious promise, like a knife being pressed against her throat; it stole her breath away.

He had never looked at her in such a manner while she had housed him! All of his gestures and expressions had seemed to be teasing and satisfied, like a white rabbit she could never catch but got close enough to brush her fingers against the gentle fur.

She lifted a delicate hand to cover her mouth, the stallion pushed off the door and with a relaxed gait moved past the princess, pausing briefly by her side, before continuing on.

"Millernia?" Hitomi's concern broke Millernia from her semi-shock.

Rotating on her heels reluctantly, she found her friend's head to be tipped a fraction to the side, as her eyebrows were pushed together in question as she started to rise from her seat. Shaking off the strange apprehension she felt, the princess forced a smile on her mouth as she reclaimed her spot on the couch, disregarding the stallion and his eyes.

Perhaps he was sore because he wasn't being properly utilized by his owner, she pondered, picking up her teacup once again.

"Are you ill?" Hitomi questioned, leaning forward and placing a warm hand on her friend's arm.

The stallion narrowed his eyes at the gesture. He did not like Hitomi touching the lesser female, simply because he could not tolerate the long-haired blonde. The princess had enough grace and schooling about her to press a smile on her face and brush off the unease as unnecessary with a reassuring pat on his owner's hand.

Flicking his gaze away from the pair, he scanned the fireplace for the fire poker. It was propped against the right side of the cream colored fireplace only a few paces away from Hitomi. The women soon picked up some ridiculous chatter about common friends, passive to his presence in the room. Deciding to not hinder any conversation he might find useful, though potentially quailed by his proximity, the male slid his hand over the handle of the utensil with all intensions of exercising his skills.

The soft scrap of metal against stone caught the ear of Millernia, who glanced up. Her slim eyebrows rose as she watched the slave lazily turn the pointed utensil against his palm.

"Are you to let him handle such things?" the princess interjected, eyebrows raising, having lost whatever Hitomi might have been saying.

Blinking rapidly in confusion, the hostess twisted around at the waist to see her stallion occupying himself with his favorite 'toy.'

Waving a hand dismissively, Hitomi gave a small smile.

"It is fine, he does nothing but goes out to the balcony and waves it about."

Millernia nodded, accepting the explanation, but did not breathe easy until he had quietly eased from the room, out the glass doors to the decent-sized veranda attached to the room.

"You've allowed him quite a bit of freedom," the royal commented, her eyes staying trained on his form as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt before settling into a stance.

Again, Hitomi redirected her attention to the male who was starting to dance a rather convincing act of swordsmanship.

"I suppose." The mistress hardly saw the point of the fascination with what he was doing. She had witnessed it enough to know he usually repeated the same moves until his skin was damp with sweat. As young children, before being relocated to a remote, elite boarding school where the girls and boys were separated (or at least the staff tried to keep them that way), Hitomi and Millernia would watch the knights and squires practice their swordplay. In some ways, the stallion's attempts brought back the memories of when the princess and she would grab sticks and try to imitate the men.

"You've even given him clothes," Millernia's voice rose from a dull observance to an unbelieving tone as her eyebrows, which had returned to their natural place, darted up her forehead again. Large eyes settled on Hitomi. "Why would you bother to have him _dress_? What he is purchased to do requires _none._"

With a roll of her eyes, Hitomi was glad that the strangeness the princess had been exhibiting faded away into one of their most conversed topics.

"Don't you get tired of thinking about nothing but _men_ and the pleasures of the flesh?" Hitomi exasperated with a huff.

"Oh, Hitomi, I am your nearest and dearest friend," Hitomi made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded suspiciously like a scoff, but the other woman decided to ignore it, "and I must say that even _if _you have a very close relationship to my family _and_ have an impressive estate, you are still teetering on fence of s_pinsterhood_."

Her eyes flipped up to the ceiling before the short-haired blonde slumped back in her seat. This was the second most common conversational issue.

"I will marry, when I find someone _worth_ marrying," she defended, feeling much like a child reciting lines of a poem. The same lines for the same argument that had started when she'd turned sixteen.

"So you have said since school, but I must wonder if you intend to marry at _all_." Setting her drink down a bit harder than necessary, the princess fixed a firm stare on her friend. "You have not courted in _years_, not since you threw away Sir Dilandau."

There was a glare worthy of an angered lioness on Hitomi's face as she answered in a clipped voice, "What is one to _do_ with trash but throw it away?"

"He was a good match!" Millernia battled.

"And matches are meant to be _burned_," Hitomi replied smartly, pushing herself up by the arms of the chair and to her feet. She folded her arms across her stomach as she strode to one of the windows overlooking the gardens.

Closing her eyes to roll them once, the princess opened them again. She had been trained from an early age to hide irritation behind a smile and eyelids. Standing, she quickly drew to the other woman's side.

"I gave you a stallion in hopes that you would come to realize the benefits of a husband without having to blindly chose one," Millernia continued, "I thought, perhaps, you feared an intimate relationship and sought to rectify it without risking your reputation."

The scathing look Hitomi shot her friend spoke volumes.

Giving a long sigh, the princess crossed her arms against her chest as she spoke wearily, "I suppose this means you will be attending all this season's events with that impossible steward of yours." Upset, Millernia turned her face to the side sharply.

Hitomi sucked in her lower lip, chewing it thoughtfully as she mulled over the best words to use in order to shape an impenetrable standing on her wanted action. Millernia might have been easily distracted by horses and men; _however_, she was an excellent diplomat, able to make promises without actually promising anything.

"_Well_," the silently conniving woman started, twisting her fingers together in front of her, casting a side long glance at the royalty. "If you find that option displeasing, I _did_ have in mind an alternative."

Puckering her lips in thought, Millernia tilted her head ever so moderately, indicating her interested had been stoked.

"There _is_," the estate owner started, her eyes flicking to the stallion, "another DeCri who I have become very interested in."

"_Another_ Decri!" Millernia's voice was caught between disgust and shock. "There are _others_ who share his blood?"

Flipping her eyes heavenward, Hitomi sighed. "No, but I gave _him,_" she tipped her head in the direction of the balcony, "Armand's family's name."

She could almost see the pieces being fitted together, bit by bit, as the princess considered the limited clues. When her blue eyes widened, Hitomi mentally put on her battle gear.

"You can't _possibly—"_

"I do."

"But that's illeg—"

"I am aware."

"B-but he is a _slave!_"

Turning to look at Millernia face-to-face, Hitomi squared her shoulders and tipped her chin up.

"The only people aware of his status are: Yukari, who never attends the functions, Armand, who will keep quiet or be fired, your sisters, you, andme." Shrugging lightly, the short-blonde haired female added, "I do not see a problem arising unless it comes from an Aston."

Sputtering in disbelief at first, the princess had to take in several breaths before she could formulate a proper and, what she considered, _saner_, logic.

"You _cannot_," the woman stated, "Simply _cannot_, expect me to allow you to—to _ruin_ yourself in such a way! If you are _caught_—"

"I will not _be_ caught, and if I am, then I shall be no better or worse than before." Hitomi smiled reassuringly, "I have no suitor to worry of offending, and the estate's businesses," she grumbled, "are perceived to rest wholly on Armand."

Feeling a bit light headed and ill to her stomach, Millernia moved backward on fumbling feet. She needed to make it to the couch before her legs turned completely to jelly. Only making it to one of the less comfortable chairs that sat against a wall, the princess lowered herself onto the seat. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she closed her eyes in attempt to ease off the sheer social uproar Hitomi's request would bring.

With the tension mounting in her body, and not the pleasant, toe-curling type that the stallion was able to draw out, but the restlessness and ache of muscles from indecision, Hitomi pushed her argument further.

"I could try to convince your sisters, if you see them as an obstacle. Marlene can be made to stand with me if I make it a tale of forbidden romance," Millernia gave an unladylike snort at that assumption. "As for Eries—I will leave her persuasion to Armand, I'm sure he can—coax her into nearly anything."

"Marlene is visiting her fiancée for the next, I believe, four months, and Eries," Millernia rolled her blue eyes, "has made father upset once again by refusing to marry any man of _his_ choosing." Shaking her head slowly, she muttered under her breath, "At least she finally _agreed_ to marry."

It wasn't a flat out negative and that had the short-haired woman bouncing on the balls of her feet with her hands clasped like a small child.

"So …?"

Millernia pulled her hands away from her face and cracked open one blue eye, and with a heavy sigh, and answered sternly, "_When _you get caught, I know nothing of the matter, understood?"

With a squeal of joy, Hitomi launched herself at her friend and captured the startled woman in a tight embrace.

From his office window which was located on the east wing, Armand had an unhindered view of the sitting room's veranda. His arms were tightly crossed against his stomach, blue eyes narrowed and calculating as he watched the male slave manipulate the iron rod against an imagined opponent.

In the weeks since Hitomi's last birthday, the steward had grown more leery of the so-called present. There was something about the slave that wasn't—right. Oh, the male _acted_ subservient and complacent when it served his interests (such as dining and while in town, though that was all hearsay from Hitomi), but there were times when a certain air rippled off the male.

It was not overly strong, just enough that an uneasiness would coil deep within Armand's stomach, but then it would disappear as quickly as it had come. The first few times, the brunette wrote it off as just apprehension of an unknown male being so close to the sweet, though sometimes overly optimistic, Hitomi.

As the days slipped by, the niggling of his alarm would not be ignored. When the stallion had come back to Terra, unconscious, and then woke with a snarling start (so Hitomi flustered), Armand had been left winded, as if struck in the stomach, when the spike of thick, raw power lashed out from the male. Not being in an immediate proximity to the slave should have prevented any errant magick from harming the steward, yet he would have preferred being trampled by a stampede of bulls than to endure what he did.

It was then that Armand began to watch the male with a narrowed eye. The male was not just some random Other, no, there was something the creature was hiding. Suspicions grew and slowly solidified as the man studied the structure of technique, precision of foot placement, and sharp-willed focus used by the slave as he 'played' and handled the iron rod.

The stallion was not _just_ any Other, but a _trained _swordsman.

A swordsman who carried a unique, yet familiar signature which left Armand's lips thinned into a line of suspicion as his mind silently molded an idea to solidify his theory.

* * *

It was almost two weeks later, the stallion let out a puff of air through his nose to indicate his displeasure of being pulled around the town. Not only had his teasing games been simply ruined by the woman's enthusiastic, random squeals and her latching onto his arm and tugging it gently in joy, but she'd insisted on humming. Music wasn't offensive to him, and for the first few hours of her happy, wordless tune, he hadn't been bothered in the least.

Nearly a week later, he was rather sick of the repetition. He had, a handful of times, caught himself playing the tune in his head only to growl and huff at her. It helped little that his hearing was heightened so that even as she bathed, he could hear her keep up her personal musical.

The humming wasn't the only change, the moment the princess' coach was nothing but a dot on the road back to Palas, Hitomi had leapt at him, wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and she announced she was just _beyond _pleased.

Completely taken back by her forwardness and lack of her normal skittish reaction to him, he lacked the thought to move, and by the time it returned, she pulled away and was all but dancing up the main steps and into the house. Eyebrows crashing together at the peculiar change in her attitude, the male looked to the housekeeper, Yukari, who only shrugged and followed her mistress in, though without the jubilant production.

He never would completely understand why the Humans thought that they were the more advanced of the races.

The random, unwarranted mood swings and the nerve-thinning habits were beyond his want to understand.

Only because of the tailor sending a note to declare his wardrobe ready did he find himself faced with populace of the town once again. She had sensed his reluctance, and for good cause. Having not found out what it was that caused the attack of magic on his person from the first excursion, the stallion was not so eager to chance another vicious assault.

He leaned against a wall, waiting outside the boot maker's shop, having already collected his new clothes, for her to pay and exit. Hands shoved into the pockets of one of his new trousers, with one ankle crossed over the other, the stallion kept an eye on the blonde female. Clicking his tongue in impatience, he took the time to focus on not what lay beyond the shop windows, but on his reflection in it.

His hair had been trimmed only the day before under Hitomi's pleading. Yukari had done a remarkable job of giving him a more controlled, civilized appearance. She had left his bangs a good length, long enough for him to duck behind when needed, but short enough to not obstruct his vision when his head was held up. The hair in the back had been cut short by the neck and, as she put it, 'fluffed' out toward the top.

His necklace of the pair was hidden underneath a collared white shirt that was loose around the torso but more defined for the arms. The end of the shirt was tucked into the dark blue pants he wore. He had given a dark look to the tailor when the short man held up a dark red jacket for the stallion to wear, but it proved to be comfortable and customized. To complete the ensemble was a pair of black, below-the-knee, cuffed boots made from a fine animal hide that he was instructed to push the ends of his pants into. The outfit, a basic day one, was fitted to his body, giving a good idea of his lean form to any who chose to look.

Giving his reflection a wicked grin, his appearance screamed of an aristocratic standing. An _elite _aristocratic standing. It was not something he planned, but, oh, would it cause those who laid claim to him before Hitomi to be in a shock.

"_Whew_," Hitomi let out with a breathless smile as she exited the shop. "I cannot believe it took so long." She smiled up at the stallion, who tilted his head to one side slightly, as if studying her, his expression one of slight dullness.

Snaking her arm through one of his, she pulled him from his resting spot and began to lead him back toward where her carriage waited at the edge of the shopping district. The blonde had a contented smile on her lips and the stallion would have been pleased to see this if he only knew _why _she wore it. He'd rather play with a happy human than one who was constantly trying to hit him with a book or smack him on the hand with a fan, but really, what was her secret about?

"Miss Kanzaki!" Came a trilling voice that had the addressed female rolling her eyes behind closed eyelids and tensing to the point the slave arched an eyebrow. Turning, she let her arm slip from the stallion's as Hitomi spread a rather convincing smile on her face as she dipped into a slight curtsy.

"Lady Jarmia. How are you this day?"

The stallion, Hitomi noticed from the corner of her eye, stopped when she had, but only gave the stranger his profile, and not his full attention.

"My, _my_, who is this handsome young fellow?" Lady Jarmia asked, obvious in her head-to-toe leer at the stallion, before she clucked of her tongue, wagged appreciative eyebrows. "I most certainly would remember seeing someone of _his_ caliber around here before."

Praying that he would be in the mood to behave, Hitomi shifted so she was facing both the stallion and Lady Jarmia. The male turned, facing the older woman, his lips pressed into a thin line a lightening quick flash of red shot through his eyes.

The multitude of governesses Hitomi terrorized as a child and young lady would have stood in proud awe of her seemingly undisturbed manners.

"This is my steward's cousin, Mr. DeCri," Hitomi addressed, turning, she then directed her words to the silent male. "Mr. DeCri, I present to you, Lady Rebekah Jarmia."

Lifting his head, she gave a small sigh of relief to see his eyes were darkish brown, and no strange coloring in them. He gave an impressive, though slight, bow to the woman while his features to remained impartial.

"Pray excuse him, madam, for his lack of words. He is mute."

"Well, nobody is without their faults, I suppose," she replied with a grin. "And at least that way he can't lie to you! Ohohoho!"

Hitomi gave a strained, half-laugh at the woman's humor and prayed to the Blessed One that the nightmarish meeting would soon draw to a close or that a runaway fruit cart would run the older woman over.

Giving a soft hum and another lustful once-over to the male, the woman snapped out of her own reverie and looked upon Hitomi in excitement.

"Oh! I must tell you the latest news." Lady Jarmia was well known for her deep well of horrid stories on each and every family in the county (some suspected the country). She was an older woman with white and grey hair always pulled up with a few heavily greased curls framing her face. Her expression was naturally open and kind; it was, Hitomi suspected, how the woman acquired all her knowledge. No one suspected such a friendly face as being a gardener of the rumor weed greenhouse.

"_Well_," the woman started, folding her arms primly across her not-so-trim waist, tugging lightly on a small leather leash looped around one of her wrists that trailed off behind her skirt. "Did you know the Baron de Mauch's own _son_ was lately found with an Other."

The stallion either wasn't paying attention or didn't care, but Hitomi's body grew taut, like a bow ready to let an arrow loose.

"What is strange about that?" Hitomi questioned lightly, forcing the worry from eating into her words. "It's perfectly acceptable, and I dare say, _common_ among those with title."

The old woman's eyes flared with conceited joy, as she stretched her neck up and tipped back her chin.

"Yes, m'dear, it _is_, but the Baron's son had no plans of getting rid of his vixen and they even had a _child_ together!" Lady Jarmia preened.

Hitomi felt ice flow through her veins as she heard a low rumble emanate from her stallion. Deciding to keep a barrier between the one making him upset and the potentially lethal male, Hitomi slowly edged her was to stand partially in front of him. Ignorant or choosing to be so of the looming danger in the air, the other woman jerked on the leash, eliciting a sharp cry from whatever was on the other end. With another harsh yank, a small girl tumbled into view.

Her pink-haired head was bowed, her cat-like ears flat against her skull as nervous hands clutched her twitching tail. The girl looked up at the strange pair and blinked watery green eyes at Hitomi and her stallion before tucking her chin down to her chest.

The child's fur was matted from lack of grooming, something very important to felines and their Other counterparts commonly called _Nekos _(in the quest to deduce what _her _stallion was, Hitomi had learned a great deal about the Otherspecies in general) . Mud was mashed into the fur around her knees and down her legs, claws appeared trimmed to the nail bed, and on her simple and torn dress were stains that Hitomi had a sickening feeling it was dried blood. Whether or not it was from the child or her slain mother was another question to which the woman didn't want to know the answer.

The entire evaluation happened in less than three heartbeats, but it was enough for both Hitomi and, as she sensed him edge closer, the male with her. This time, the blonde woman _felt_ the growl from her stallion as he closed the gap between his chest and her back, though still half shielded by Hitomi, presumably to stare at the child.

"_This_," the old woman crooned, "is my reward."

"Reward?" Hitomi managed out, disgust coiling in her stomach.

"Why, _yes_, as you know my husband has fair aim. He got this thing as a gift of thanks from the Baron for having shot and killed the slave that was ruining his son." She gave a nasty pull on the leash and the girl fell forward to her hands and knees.

The stallion lurched forward, but Hitomi quickly moved a hand to the side, low enough to touch his leg, as to steady him. It was an action unnoticed by the older woman who was too busy spreading her own glory to care about the world around her.

"And would you know that Sir Dilandau Albatou _himself_ wanted to congratulate my husband for his work!" Lady Jarmia continued, unfazed by the silence or thickening tension. "The pair was running to the border, to the cursed country,with my new pet. They thought that _there_ they would be of equal status. Can you imagine! _Wanting_ to be on the same level as a _savage_?" The older woman sighed, "It's no wonder _we_ are so further advanced than those pitiable creatures."

Hitomi smiled and nodded throughout the rest of the conversation but her ears were alert to any sound the male might make. When the child had been pushed to all fours, the growling ceased— something she found more unnerving.

Chancing a quick glance back at the male, the woman blinked several times before she shook her head lightly as if to clear away the image she had taken in. The sun must have been playing tricks, she rationalized, and surely the stallion's earth-toned eyes were not near glowing and bubbling lava _red_.

As if sensing her confusion, the male ducked his head, allowing the thick black bangs to fall in front of and guard his eyes from hers, the tips brushing her shoulder.

The blonde's eyes flicked from the plump and pompous woman to the small and meek child on the leash. A part of her heart broke for the small, motherless girl who was now being treated as nothing better than a cur. As disconcerting as the Neko's situation was, there was nothing that Hitomi could do while bound within the protocol of society. If she raised a fuss about the tight collar, or heartless pulling on the leash, more than one question would rise.

It was a miserable thing to be caged by culture's expectation yet have a heart for those who were trampled on so mercilessly.

"I suppose I should leave, I have another engagement to attend." Jarmia looked down at the Neko and with another harsh pull, directed the little girl to come.

The stallion's hand gripped Hitomi's elbow, his fingertips pressing into her flesh hard enough to hurt and bruise. She bit back the hiss of pain that wanted to escape as she curtsied to the woman as Lady Jarmia sashayed away with a wave good-bye.

The last thing Hitomi saw before the two females rounded the next corner were the large, pained green eyes of the little girl.

* * *

For two nights after the trip to town, sleep refused to come to Hitomi's tired mind. She would toss and turn, kick the covers off only to drag them back up to her chin a few moments later. Not sure if her restlessness was what kept him at bay but the stallion had abandoned her bed in favor of her fainting couch.

Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, rested her hands on the opposite shoulders, and propped her chin on the closest wrist. In the dim moonlight, she could make out the form of the male who rested on the couch. His back was against the arm of the couch, one leg bent and drawn close enough for him to rest an arm on it, while the other one was positioned under the bent leg. His face was turned from her, from the room, and he seemed to be studing the landscape view offered by her bay window.

Giving a soft puff of air, Hitomi felt the curious tug on her heart as she studied his less than friendly posture. He had been acting—well, like a gentleman (save for the staying in her room) since they had gone to town. She no longer had to threaten him with bodily harm or warn him with hot glares. The male kept his hands to himself and though she did not miss having to smack those troublesome hands, it was his trade of playfulness to seriousness that Hitomi wished hadn't happened.

Sadly, she could pinpoint the exact moment when he had turned icy to her. It was in the look the stallion had given her after Lady Jarmia had bid them farewell. It was one of pure, unmasked disappointment. The emotion had shot through her and as her mouth opened to say something, the wall of indifference slammed down in his personality and bright eyes.

If he was disappointed, it meant he had some sort of _expectation_ of her. It bothered Hitomi that she was not only concerned about the implications of such a silent confession, but also that she had no clue as to how to restore his opinion to its former status, whatever it may have been.

Repositioning, she laid her cheek on the 'x' her arms made and blindly stared at one of the low dressers that sat against a wall. Her mind offered up different ideas and her logic would chew them over. Most of the suggestions orbited around two main points.

One was to repudiate his new attitude and remember his place in her household was the lowest as merely a _slave_. Though this sneering thought held all the truth to it, her heart ached at the very notion of her becoming like Lady Jarmia in her view of Others.

The second possible point was to offer herself to him. Perhaps he had grown tired of playing with her without benefit of reward. At this, Hitomi's cheeks burned hot with discomposure of such colorful images and ideas. She had firmly decided against such a course, even though it was more than sly in the ways it kept creeping back into her forethought.

With neither of those options being morally feasible and no one to really seek advice from concerning the matter, she shifted her concern to the other pair of expressive eyes that were burned into her memory.

The cat girl.

On that matter Hitomi had formulated a strategy. Biting her lower lip, anxiety gripped her heart and caused her stomach to clench. There were so many things that could go wrong if she implemented her plan. More than one male would be quite put out with her decisions when (if) the matter came to light.

She weighed the pros and cons of the situation and probable solution on a highly skeptical scale inside herself. However, her emotions cheated by keeping a lead thumb on the side that spoke not of sacrifice, but of saving.

Giving a quick glance at the stallion, who had yet to move, she heaved out a mixture of a sigh and groan as she shoved her blankets to the side and clambered out of her comfortable bed. Hitomi didn't dare look back to see if he was watching her, she focused on finding her slippers and robe, and as she left her room, on the words of the proposal she was about to pen.


End file.
